Sincerely, Swan
by BeforeTheStorm15
Summary: Old-fashioned, music-loving Killian Jones is pleasantly surprised to find a kindred spirit in the cynical, yet intriguing Emma Swan. There's only the small issue of distance: 5640 miles. A CS pen-pal AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is for the cs AU week on tumblr. Hope you all enjoy :)

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"You cannot actually be serious?"

"Oh, for the love of god, get that gorgeous blonde head out of your ass for just one moment."

"Ruby!"

"Em_ma_." Her friend - or, soon to be _ex_-friend - deadpanned. Red lips pulling into a sly grin, Ruby shrugged. "Honestly, give me one good reason why you shouldn't reply?"

"Just, because!"

There was simply no way Emma was going to justify her choices. Giving one final eye roll in an attempt to finalise the decision, Emma ignored Ruby's frustrated groans and pushed away from the coffee table with the pointedly obviously scrapping of the hair signalising an abrupt end to Ruby's scheme.

"Write back once, then. Only once, then you can decide afterwards. Please? Do it for an amazing friend with a Cupid complex?"

Apparently it wasn't the end, surprise, surprise.

Her long-time roommate and close friend, Ruby had what Emma liked to call a persisting personality. She was an excellent motivational speaker yet lacked a little modesty on the listening side of all things mature and delicate. It wasn't a total deliberate disregard for other's feelings, more so a disbelief that not everyone was eager to dip their toes into dating new guys every week. As soon as one guy was revealed to be a _'hot, arrogant douche'_, as Ruby so poetically announced to Emma on a regular basis, Ruby then wasted no time in waving goodbye to the past. Though Emma adored her friend, there were times - take, now - when she would've appreciated sugar-coating.

Still gingerly holding the dreaded letter in one hand, Emma began to slowly circle the rim of her coffee mug with the other. "Well, then. It's settled." She sat down again and smirked across at Ruby. "If you're Cupid, then I am staying the hell away from Olympus."

"Ha. History nerd."

"Mythology _geek_." Emma corrected with a wink.

"Really? Stop avoiding the issue!" Ruby cried, hand waving about as though in a 1980s, chaotic dance-off. "Look, I promise he's not a serial killer or a crazed single man with a love of bizarre and perverted kinks. Unless you're into that, in that case, I found your match!"

"Look, I'm just not ready to date again." Emma noted the icy drop in her tone, but still followed up with a snap, "Not yet, anyway. Can we just leave it as that and drop it? As in, right now?"

There was a moment's silence; the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense around her heated outburst. Expecting Ruby to surrender, or at least roll her eyes or leave, Emma was somewhat surprised when her roommate leaned across and reached out to clasp her loose hand gently with her own.

"Emma, it's been almost ten years." Ruby spoke softly now. "The asshole who broke your heart didn't deserve even half the time you've spent regretting him."

Her stomach clenched, knotting and twisted and violently gasping for air at the mere mention of him. Biting down on her lip, hard, Emma ignored the sickening sensation and looked down at their entwined hands instead.

"I've know you for more than four years now, you're one of my best friends. All I want is to see you happy."

Emma blinked. The conversation had taken a sudden detour into the land of emotion and a vividly painful past, and she was overwhelmed by Ruby's now-gentle encouragement. "I am happy." She mumbled in protest.

"You know what I mean."

"And you really believe writing back to a random hottie from..." Emma broke away to scan her eyes over Killian's letter to where his RSPV post-box address was written in clear, neat handwriting. "...Ireland is going to burn down that bridge?"

Ruby took a sip from her blue-striped china mug before responding with another shrug, "Maybe. Maybe not. There's only one way to see though, right? Besides, I know you want to write him back. I can tell."

"How?" Emma scoffed, ignoring the - whilst now pleasant - still startling tightening hovering inside her chest like tiny fireflies waiting for a flicker of hope. She'd never considered online dating in a million years, yet the idea of actual writing seemed...old-fashioned. And somewhat romantic. Either way, it intrigued Emma that someone like Killian Jones would have trouble finding dates in real life, having too resorted to pen-pals.

Ruby's eyes now glinted with mischief. "Well, you have been thumbing his picture for about ten minutes now."

_Oh, hell._

_xXx_

Killian first received a responding letter from Emma on the 5th June; the exact following weekend he'd sent his own.

The early arrival of it pleasantly surprised him.

If he'd been intrigued by Emma Swan before, then now, after reading such a letter, he was more than ready to fly across the country and meet her as soon as possible.

It was as followed;

_Dear, Jones,_

_Do people even write 'dear' anymore? It seems far too 'Pride and Prejudice' for my taste, but here goes. Besides, this is one of two sheets of calligraphy paper I own - a wasted birthday gift from long ago that finally I have found a use of - and I'll be damned if I have to start all over again._

_I have to inform you that my rather intrusive friend and roommate, Ruby, forwarded my profile onto you. I was unaware that I even had an account so imagine my surprise when an Irish musician writes to me out of the blue! Yes, that's you, by the way, Jones. I don't have a line of handsome suitors waiting. Only you. _

_First of all, I really enjoyed reading about your music. Personally, I prefer Bon Jovi to Damien Rice, and The Killers to Johnny Cash, but a girl can appreciate a good acoustic guitarist every now and again. I tried searching you online, but couldn't find any performances of you, or your new band. That was a shame, I would've loved to hear you play. Perhaps some other time. _

_And yes, I do in fact have a couple of name suggestions, as you so kindly asked for;_

_1. Jones and the Pirates - okay, so not the most original, but I still think it'd look good on a tour poster. _

_2. The Four Olympians._

_3. Anchors and Shipwrecks._

_4. Hydra. (this one is the definition of 'Emma Swan should not be a band-name-maker')_

_By now, I'm assuming you sense the historical/mythological pattern. Sue me, I like stories and legends and myths of heroic battles and grand characters. _

_If you've reached the end of this - and I praise you for battling through the awfully slanted handwriting and bad humour - and don't want to set it on fire, I'd like to see what you have to say about the band ideas, and whatever else is going on in your life. _

_My life is fairly ordinary; decent job, annoying yet irreplaceable roommate, and a possible new friend (guess who?)_

_Correct, It just might be you, Jones. _

_If you could handle it, that is. _

_Sincerely, Swan._

_P.S. Killian is a far too wonderful name not to use it for significant occasion; hence I shall call you 'Jones'. _

_P.P.S. Now I have convinced myself that you are a CIA agent until further corrected. I will be most disappointed otherwise. _

Folding the letter carefully into two again, Killian attempted - and miserably failed - to conceal the unfurling grin widening across his face.

His lips pulled and twitched as he scanned over the letter again, enjoying Emma's dry tone and sense of realistic attitudes as though she was reading out the letter in his mind. Her final comical remarks made Killian chuckle, and this earned him an equally bemused look from his own nosy roommate, Victor.

"Something funny?"

"Only your puzzlement."

"Hm." Victor folded a newspaper into his lap and furrowed his brow. "Who's the letter from then?" He teased. "Do you have a mysteriously hot wife that I am currently unaware of?"

"Wife, no. Mysterious, yes. Hot?" Killian turned and flashed Emma's profile photograph in Victor's direction. "Think more Goddess of blonde, snarky and gorgeous."

He smirked when Victor's smile dropped into a perplexed thin line. His friend pushed up from the sofa and quickly walked over to where Killian sat at the table. Taking in everything; Killian's smug grin, the open letter and a pen-pal profile, Victor's expression cleared. Then it dipped back into confusion.

"Is this a dating site?"

"No. It's a pen-pal directory." Killian explained quickly. Online dating was something they had previously scoffed at. His stubborn pride enabled no further confession that pen pals had always fascinated him; connecting with random strangers across the globe in the hope of finding something you'd never known was lost before.

Victor raised an eyebrow in a teasing nature, and delighted glee practically dripped out of his tone, "So, dating."

"Bloody hell, Victor, no." He shook his head. "Trust me, that is no longer my intention." Killian sighed in frustration. "We're just friends."

It was difficult to explain.

He'd been longing for time to start up a profile for a while now, yet had been busy with the newely formed band and recent album deal they'd struck. Now seemed a perfectly good time to at least have a topic of conversation. Not that Killian wasn't well-rehearsed in conversing. He enjoyed film, literature and the occasional sport, but music was something held dearly above all. Above possible love, home and at times, life. Music was life. Killian found himself suddenly wanting to know what passions lingered in Emma's heart.

"You're telling me you wouldn't date Emma Swan? Whatever happened to _'Goddess of blonde, snarky and gorgeous'_, hm?"

Turning back to Victor, Killian shook his head, but a quick grin tugged at his lips. "That's not up to me, mate."

"Ever the gentleman."

"Aye."

"Don't suppose she has a super-hot roommate too?"

"She _does_ have a roommate. Her name's Ruby."

"Hmm. Ruby." Victor grinned and wagged a thumb at his chest. "I trust you'll know what to say to your...Emma...next time you write. Put in a good word for me and I won't say another bad word about this..._pen pal_ business of yours. Deal?"

"Fine. Now go, I'm drafting my response."

"Alright, alright. Good luck, wonder boy."

"Bugger off." Killian muttered good-naturedly, and waved a hand as Victor left with a cheery wave.

After refilling numerous cups of coffee, and an hour and a half later, Killian proudly held his second letter to Emma Swan in his shaking hands. (the quivers were from the caffeine, he swears)

_Dearest, Emma,_

_I was delighted to receive a reply so soon. Whoever said that it's proper to wait at least two weeks before responding to a first date - or, letter - ought to be struck down by Zeus. (I hope you're proud, I researched into Greek mythology just for you, Swan)_

_Before we continue writing, I have to sadly inform you that I do not, in fact work for the CIA. Nor the FBI, either. If this disappoints you greatly, then I bid you farewell with a broken heart and possibly a new song or two - heartbreak does wonders for the muse, don't you think so?_

_Which brings me onto my next point. Our new band has quite literally only taken form, hence why you couldn't find any performances. I am not Neil Young or Bruce Springsteen, but merely a simple, Irish singer who gigs at local pubs and clubs. It's not brilliant pay, though it's manageable and allows me to do what I love - music. Am I right in assuming mythology to you, is music to myself?_

_I pitched your musical ideas to my roommate - and lead guitarist in the band - Victor, who considered them all for about 0.05 seconds. He's rather arrogant about accepting help, you see. Unlike myself, who leapt at 'Jones and the Pirates'._

_I'm still holding onto hope that he'll come around soon._

_'Anchors and Shipwrecks' sounds like a wonderful idea for a song title. I hope you don't mind if I borrow it?_

_Excellent._

_I am most intrigued by your normal life. In fact, I assure you, I will find anything you write interesting and worth understanding._

_Additionally, in regards to your naming of 'Jones', I think I shall take to calling you 'Swan'. Don't you think it creates an air of 'undercover agent scoping for danger'. I think it does. _

_Until next time,_ _Jones._

_P.S. Victor wishes to know if Ruby would consider him as a prospect. (I advice a polite rejection)_

_P.P.S Did you know Zeus had seven wives? Of course you knew. That's one more than Henry VIII. I'm shocked and appalled by such misogyny attitudes and shall write an entire song dedicated why Greek Gods ought to be de-throned from their pedestals._

_P.P.P.S I am fairly certain Hades is a better man than Zeus._

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**Drop a review if you can x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, wonderful followers of this new fic. Glad so many of you enjoyed the first chapter :)**

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_Dear, Jones,_

_I admit, admitting your exclusion from the FBI and the CIA brought about mixed emotions. I've come to conclude that your name, your most likely agreeable and pleasing accent and musical talents are far more important to me. _

_But only by a small margin._

_Oh, and please, I urge you to encourage Victor to consider using 'Jones and the pirates'. Tell him that Ruby admits it sounds very - how did she put it again, oh yes; 'indie coffee shop boy meets guy liner and sex appeal'._

_Now I feel the need to ask, for sophisticated purposes, if you wear guy liner, Jones? _

_I greatly appreciated your efforts of inputting Greek mythology into your letter, however, seeing as Zeus has about the same recognition as Jesus; your efforts only go so far. Consider this your amateur-worthy reward; an enclosed photograph of one of my favourite places in New York, the harbour. I often go there in the early afternoon - never at night as what bold woman would venture out in such a terror-filled society? Certainly not I, Emma Swan, merely a lonely woman seeking the comfort of the sea. _

_You once asked if mythology is to me, as music is to you, and the answer is partially correct, though water is my one true love. I used to swim regularly as a young girl. No matter whatever foster system I ended up in, there was fortunately always a pool nearby. _

_I miss it. Swimming, I mean. Not the foster homes. Most carers and children were relatively decent, but I'll let you in on a little secret; it's rather lonely, you see. No permanent home or family or place to truly call yours. _

_So there you have it, Jones, a small, insignificant insight into the tragic backstory of Emma Swan. _

_I hope I haven't frightened you away just yet. It'd be a shame if I had; I rather enjoy awaiting these letters. Though I'd never admit it to Ruby - she's convinced we'll be married by this time next year, and there is simply no way I will allow such a victory._

_(She bids a flirtatious 'hello' to Victor, do pass that along for her. If your roommate is as nosy and as unashamed as Ruby, then I fear we may have created something dangerous and possibly threatening to the entire world of dating. Those two would be unstoppable.)_

_P.S. Hades is definitely a better man, and God, than Zeus. I suggest you watch 'Hercules' and see if your opinion shifts. Consider Disney films another Swan speciality. _

_P.P.S. I don't suppose I could receive a special tour around the Killian Jones life vault? If you wish to learn about my life, I see it only fair that I return the favour. _

_Sincerely, Swan._

Giving the letter yet another once-over, Emma shook her head, as though to visibly remove any doubt, before carefully folding it in two and sealing it inside a pale brown envelope with one final push.

She anxiously considered removing some of the rather personal statements - foster homes, the harbour, or her direct interest in Killian's life - but after a moment of uncertainty relapsed back into bravery, Emma allowed herself a brief feeling of vulnerability and sealed the letter with a small, yet intimate, portion of her life.

Words, confessions and insights had seemed to flow straight from her thoughts onto the paper. Each flick of a wrist and new line signalled a natural flow that was surprisingly peaceful. Emma had yet to feel completely uncomfortable or pained by their conversations. In fact, Killian's letters only ever brought comfort and a quiet, tender fondness that had quickly danced into Emma's life.

They'd been writing to one another for a few weeks now, and each letter seemed to grow longer, more profound in honesty, and growing bolder and daringly intimate with each signature.

During this time, Emma had only ever emitted one, small white lie to Killian. That was the omission of her definitely impressed reaction to his research skills and clear interest in her life, interests and every little quirk and bump in-between.

It, instead, had made an _instant_ impression.

Not one guy Emma had ever dated or even so much as spent time with had been interested in her rather shameful passion. All things myths and historical were a personal joy she'd separated from dating. The fact that Killian Jones, a seemingly ordinary - though clearly charming and intellectual man - she'd only shared a handful of letters with went out of his usual way to pay homage to Emma's interests was deeply flattering.

"I see that smile, miss _I-hate-dating-websites_."

"Ruby."

"What? I'm only pointing out the painfully obvious fact of life."

"Which is?"

Surprisingly silent for a moment, Ruby slowly tilted her head at Emma; her dark eyes playfully alight with a child-like glee. Her grin was infectious. "That Killian Jones is your exception."

Emma turned away from her roommate with a dry eye-roll, but forced a quiet cough to hide a blossoming bashful smile.

* * *

_Dear, Swan,_

_I felt a little out of depth after reading your recent letter. Scarily, and wonderfully bewilderedly so._

_There have been very few people in my life who I feel comfortable expressing platonic intimacy with, though I'd like to consider myself a fairly approachable gentleman. Words cannot express how lucky I feel that you trusted me with your past. I understand all to well that the past can not only become a consuming place, but can also bury away deep inside for years and years until it threatens to devastate not only memories, but the present too._

_I enjoy the company of the sea too. The photograph of the harbour looks like something straight out of an Indie film. I hope you can take me there one day. If you'd invite me into your tiny, special pocket of the universe by the sea, that is?_

_So thank you, for sharing a part of your past with me, Emma. Truthfully, I searched for words that would truly and wholly express the recognition and connection I felt whilst reading it, but I felt it best to show you my understanding through a little backstory of my own._

_See, loneliness and loss of family are two things I also know very well. _

_I lost my older brother, Liam, when I was fourteen years old. He had only recently been promoted to Vice Admiral in the British Royal Navy, and was travelling across the sea to England when the crew encountered a navigational error and crashed into an unexpected rock. The funeral was dreadful. A roomful of sailors, family and friends who knew Liam in ways that a younger brother never could. It wasn't my finest moment. I said awful things to people I love and have carried around regret for too long, and not long enough. _

_Forgive me, Emma. I promise I'm not trying to buy your pity or sadness. I only hope to return the same level of trust you were kind enough to share. Even if it draws you away from our talks, I'd like to be honest. _

_I expect you're wondering why I enjoy the sea so adequately if my only sibling died in it. Well, perhaps that is self-explanatory. It simply takes me closer to Liam. Each memory seems to linger in the water - you'll have to excuse my completely ridiculous discourse, but I find it profoundly easily to slip into Shakespearean tongue whilst armed with a quill, ink pot and paper._

_(Yes, I do in fact, own an ink pot.)_

_(And also, yes, it's taken me many attempts to master even vaguely decent handwriting)_

_(But I write in ink only for you, Swan.)_

_Joking aside, I'm very fortunate to have had music as my moral compass after Liam died. Without it, I doubt I would be sitting here writing to you._

_Speaking of music, let me move on to lighter news. The new band I mentioned before has its first recording session this week, which I am most looking forwards to. I've been working on a few songs that I can't wait to check out in the studio - yes, an actual studio. Can you imagine my excitement? _

_(Anchors and shipwrecks is most definitely one of those songs) _

_(Also, I'm afraid I must inform you that Victor is as equally intrigued by your Ruby as I am of you, my lovely, Swan.)_

_I feel offended that my research didn't impress you, but I'll let you in on a secret of my own; I love a challenge. Therefore I have been digging further into the mythology archives to impress you. Be prepared to be amazed and dazed by Killian Jones and his newfound knowledge._

_Are you prepared, Swan?_

_So, welcome to Slavic mythology 101 class with Professor Killian Jones. (Also, yes; you may gain extra credits via bad jokes - I'm a sucker for literary and musical puns.)_

_Fact no.1: Oźwiena is the Russian God of echoes. Believe me, this lass is terrifying, Swan. If you come across her on a bad day, she can twist and manipulate words. She's known for re-creating hero's stories into lies. Sneaky little minx, isn't she, Oźwiena?_

_Fun fact. no.2 (and my personal favourite): Sudz - this guy is a Polish god, by the way - decides who is destined for poverty, and who for riches. If Sudz throws gold at you, then bam - you've hit the heavenly jackpot! You've won roulette Olympus! _

_Oh, how wonderful. I now find myself out of line space. __Do not fret, Emma, my dear, for I will have more fun facts for you next time. I promise. And a Jones never breaks his word._

_At a risk of sounding like the hopeless, acoustic singer-turned bashful kid hiding behind pen and paper I truly have become, I'm going out on a limb here and hoping you enjoy these letters as much as I do. If that is so, then I would like to call you, if I may._

_I understand should you decline, Swan, please do not feel under any obligation to me whatsoever._

_Until next time,_

_Jones._

_P.S. I'll leave my details below, should you decide to take a leap of faith._

_P.P.S. That was indeed a metaphor. Please do not hijack a boat to Ireland to meet me. However romantic that may seem, trust me, fishing boats are no place to travel long journeys on rough seas._

_P.P.P.S. I do wear guy liner. _

As soon as the letter was sent, Killian wished to seven hells that it could be returned before it reached Emma.

For the past few swift weeks they'd been writing to one another, he'd adopted this strange happiness whenever he was reading a new letter, or responding to one. It didn't frighten or scare Killian, but he grew anxious that it would be over before it truly began. And as someone who had lost a great deal, and gained very little, it was beginning to re-surface deeply buried emotions.

Liam.

He'd hardly spoken about him in years. In fact, Killian was unsure of whether even Victor, or their other close band mates, Robin and David, knew either.

Yet it had been easy to invite Emma into his loss.

Perhaps it was the ability to write without fear of physically participating in Emma's reactions. Though Killian was certain every word they'd both written hadn't been edited. Some lines had been scribbled due to mistakes, or topic irrelevance, but the strength of emotion and honesty lay clearly visible within in each letter.

Therefore, asking Emma to call him seemed the most appropriate course of action. It didn't force anything, merely suggested a step forwards. Killian was desperate to know whether their connection was simply platonic and friendly on paper, or that it would only grow in the reality of everyday life.

He stared at the post-box for one painfully long minute before setting his shoulders firmly straight, his chin up, and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

* * *

_No._

_Oh, no._

_Why did he have to...?_

Emma exhaled loudly in frustration, and began to rub a firm hand in circles across her damp forehead and temple.

_What the hell are you thinking, Killian Jones?_

She'd paced out to the harbour as soon as she finished reading Killian's latest letter. The sea and breeze didn't offer its usual comfort, however, and Emma instead only felt the pressure of his words - despite his intentions having positive contrast - digging into every past wound and scar.

It would be easy to close the letter, change her postal address and never speak or hear from Killian again.

Listening to the sudden increase of her heartbeat, and the dampness spreading across the nape of her neck, Emma realised with a sigh that this decision would only create yet another bad memory.

She enjoyed Killian's letters. Very much so. Tending to be a pretty good judge of people, Emma Swan judged Killian through his clever, witty tone, but also through the unspoken words.

His understanding as to offer her his own number, without pressing for hers in return. Or the subtle inclusion of mythology - clearly showing interest in Emma's interests. All these small, yet recognisable details struck a happy chord in her, and she knew the next decision would, whether intentional or not, bring changes to their relationship.

It feels too easy. Far too natural and...well, happy.

She wrapped her jacket tighter. Despite the breeze thankfully cooling her burning cheeks, Emma still felt a bizarre mixture of heat, and cold. As though her indecision was reflected externally as well.

Strolling back to her apartment, Emma had more time for reflection. There were many things that, although she had shared with Killian, she still felt they didn't compare to events he hadn't been told of.

But then again, what right did he have to assume otherwise?

_None_. Emma declared to herself. _None at all._

Her stomach clenched in protest and she groaned_. Oh, hell. I should just call him and get it over with. What could be the worst thing that happens? We have little to talk about? Then we part on awkward terms and forget the entire thing. It wouldn't be the end of the world._

It was even worse to allow herself to think otherwise. That Killian may be as delightfully spoken as he was written. That they may grow fonder of each other and Emma would risk heartbreak once more.

_What if he dislikes me?_

_I can't..._

_Yes, I will._

_I'll call him right now, in fact._

Grabbing the phone with shaky hands, a moment of overwhelming desire to be proven wrong washed over Emma, and she clung to it with strong will. She ignored the tremble of her fingers. She ignored her heartbeat pounding loudly inside her ears. But mostly, Emma ignored every warning and constructed mental barriers and disregarded them with one clear moment of daring boldness.

Of happiness, and a delightful fear of the unknown.

_Take a leap of faith, Swan_ - she could almost hear Killian already, and as she dialled the written number and bought the phone up to her left ear, Emma waited and waited, and then-

"Killian Jones." A low voice announced. "Who is this speaking?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hello to all the amazing new followers! I'm glad so many are still enjoying this fic, and hope you continue to do so.**

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"Killian Jones. Who is this speaking?"

_Thud_.

She wasn't proud of such a reaction, but whether it was the gorgeous, deep accent she'd feared, or simply the moment of hearing his voice, Emma slammed the phone back down with a purposeful swiftness.

It was instinctive, stemming from the deepest fears within Emma's heart. Of rejection, embarrassment and once again, fear itself. Unfortunately it was the strongest emotion that overwhelmed Emma every time she attempted vulnerability. Every possible option that could go wrong ran through her mind. Upon hearing Killian's voice for the first time, it had all resurfaced.

_Damn him to hell. _

Emma backed away from the phone, her eyes fixated onto the object as she moved towards a nearby armchair; collapsing into it with a shaky relief of breath.

It hadn't been her finest moment, truth be told. Although she'd had plenty of surrenders to fear and anxiety, this moment pained her with an intense feeling of growing regret. It wasn't just embarrassment. It was definitely regret. Some troublesome part of Emma regretted taking a leap of faith into the ocean, only to reach for the comforting safety of the harbour.

A wave of fear crippled Emma, and she brushed a hand over the drops of sweat forming along her forehead, then the nape of her neck, then glistening across her fingertips-

"Hey, you feeling alright? You look like hell."

"Thanks." Emma managed to slip in some of her usual dryness, but instead, her voice was weak and thick with anxiety.

Ruby, who had entered the shared apartment, much to Emma's lack of awareness, narrowed her eyes. She quickly discarded a handful of shopping bags on the coffee table and knelt down beside Emma, placing a cool hand against Emma's forehead.

"Let me get you an ice pack or something." Ruby continued to fret. It soothed some of Emma's anxieties that someone was simply beside her, and she managed to acknowledge Ruby with a small smile. Her friend gasped, "Jesus, you're burning up."

"I prefer Emma, but I'll take what you give me."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Hilarious." She relaxed her grip on Emma's arm and moved towards the freezer, pulling out a pale blue ice pack and quickly handing it to her friend.

"Thanks." Emma said weakly. Ignoring her roommate's narrowed eyes and folded arms, Emma focused on the pleasant sensation of frozen ice against burning skin. Her cheeks flushed when she thought back to that moment. _How did I let myself to get so worked up over a damn phone call?_

After a few moments passed, Ruby reclined on the opposite chair, propped her boots up on the coffee table and grinned. "So what the hell happened?"

"I called Killian."

"And then what? His voice was so beautiful you passed out?"

Emma groaned, and threw an arm across her forehead to shield the growing flames flicking across her cheeks. "Ruby, please. I'm not in the mood."

"Ah." She heard Ruby let out a delighted laugh at that point. "So you freaked out."

"I did not!" Emma protested, quickly sitting up in the armchair again and throwing Ruby a pointedly sharp look. Though to no avail could Emma argue with the painfully clear and obvious know-it-all mischief written all over Ruby's pretty face. "Alright, alright." Emma held up both hands in surrender. "I may have freaked out."

"I knew it."

"Hey!" Emma argued miserably. "At least I called him. That's a start, right?"

Ruby's responding snort was anything but supportive. "It's a terrible excuse. And an even worse attempt at a start. It's not even a start because you gave up before you even tried, Emma!"

"I know, I know. You don't need to remind me."

Oh, forgive me, cherub." Ruby looked apologetic now, her bizarre pet name an expression of fondness. "I didn't mean to make you feel worse." Her eyes fell on the growing pile of letters and she smiled across at Emma. "I just...you've changed so much these past few weeks. You smile and laugh more, and actually make an effort to laugh at my jokes."

Ruby winked and Emma couldn't help but smile in return. "I want you to take this chance. With Killian, I mean." She continued quietly. When Ruby spoke softly, Emma usually took this to express not only a sense of seriousness, but also a gentle firmness that usually proved to be excellent advice. Ruby may be meddlesome, aggravating and inappropriate at times, but Emma had never been so grateful for having a friend like Ruby. She was supportive and knew just when to push her.

Ruby finished with an inviting, "I don't know about you, but he seems worth a chance to me, don't you think so?"

Her first response was to nod and exclaim, 'of course', but once those mile-high walls stuck their noses in, Emma began to pull away from such ideas. It wasn't so much about Killian as it was about Emma herself. Whether or not she felt ready to open up and share. Vulnerability was of the highest bravery, and Emma was, sadly, unsure if she would ever desire to feel it again.

_Not after the last time,_ she thought sadly. _I don't know if I can-_

Suddenly, an abrupt belling tone struck through the solitude. Emma jumped from the armchair, and reached for the phone, almost as an instinctive reaction, but perhaps sub-consciously deciding to earn a second chance...

"Hello?"

The low voice returned once more, this time with a hint of amusement. "Swan?"

"Jones." Emma breathed, completely unaware she'd even been holding a breath until it relaxed into his name.

She was less intimidated this time, however, relapsing into an alarmed, but pleasant surprise that he had phoned back. It might've been curiosity on his part, but hearing Killian's voice again seemed to encourage Emma's anxiety to dissolve into some sort of mild relief.

Killian's satisfied laugh echoed pleasantly down the line. "So it was you."

"How...how did you know?"

In the background, Ruby's eyes widened. She began flapping her arms around to gain Emma's attention, but all it managed to do was break Emma's concentration for a moment. She held a hand over the receiver and hushed her roommate. With a reluctant scowl, Ruby growled but protested no further, and excused herself to the kitchen, grumbling as she did so.

There was a moment's shuffling on his side of the line, a barely audible clash of an instrument - perhaps a drum or a cymbal - that caused Killian to mutter a curse. Emma bit back a grin.

"Who else would decide to call me at...oh, four o'clock in the morning?"

Her grin dropped in an instant. _Oh, hell_. She pressed a hand to her forehead in frustration. Time difference really was a bitch.

"Oh god, I'm sorry." Emma rushed out. "I should've checked to see what time it is over there. I completely forgot."

"It's not a problem, love,", came Killian's smooth reply. As she'd expected, there was definitely an easy-listening quality to Killian's lilted tone; deep, low but distancing from dull and monotone. The accent affected many of his words with a carefree musicality. Emma had never really been a fan of accents before, but Killian proved to be yet again, an exception.

Distracted again, the line crackled again as he juggled the phone. "You just caught me at a busy time, is all." When Killian spoke this time, he sounded faintly tired; a strained nature within his tone that made Emma itch to know what he was up to. "I was finishing off some lyrics in the studio. Hold on a second..."

Another shuffle occurred.

_Ah. Writing_. Emma remembered his studio session and grimaced. She really had the worst timing in the history of anyone.

"Sorry...again."

"Don't apologise. I'm..." There was another pause, and Emma could feel the tension snap wonderfully when he quietly added, "I'm glad you called me, Emma."

"Me too." She admitted. Her eyes closed for a moment. A small smile teased the corners of her lips and she wondered just why she'd been dreading the phone call after all.

Killian chuckled, the sound warm and relaxed. "Really?"

"Really."

Just then, Ruby re-entered the lounge and mouthed a subtle, _'how's it going?'_ to which Emma shot her a smile and a thumbs up gesture. That earned her the usual Ruby wink. Emma returned it with her usual eye roll, but truly hoped to convey the gratitude she felt to her roommate for being helpfully persisting.

Suddenly realising she'd left Killian hanging on the phone, Emma quickly freed the receiver and muttered an apology again. Without time to reconsider, she rushed on in the most casual manner she could muster, "So, what are you working on, Jones? If your reply is anything other than 'anchors and shipwrecks', I'll be most disappointed."

"You're not going to believe this, Swan, but..."

"You're kidding!"

"Believe me, I am most certainly not."

"Are you in the studio right now?"

"Indeed. Hold on just one moment..." A few dials and beeps sounded out, and then Killian was back on the line. "You're currently on loud speaker with _The Untitled_. Say hello to the one and only Emma Swan, lads."

A collection of voices shouted out their greetings, and Emma grinned at the encore of cheerful band members. She quickly managed to decipher a few. There was David, Victor and Robin who she'd known through Killian's letters, who called out merry hellos and laughs, and a few others of whom Killian hadn't mentioned. She assumed they were studio producers and other behind the scenes contributors.

"Is that the name? _The Untitled_?"

Ignoring the fact that she was currently being broadcasted across to an entire band, Emma felt strangely at peace with it. The band seemed friendly enough and Killian was leading her through their conversations naturally. Emma soaked up the homely welcome and relaxed into the strange ordeal her night had taken.

"Killian is still desperately fighting for _Jones and the Pirates_. Oh, wait a sec. Are you the lass to blame for his inflated ego? Jones has been hell to work with these past few weeks, I'm afraid. All bumbling and love-struck soulful musician."

"Shut up, Dave."

"Oh, I see I've struck a nerve, hm?"

"Tell me something, love, do you know how many songs Killian has written since he's begun his Romeo and Juliet tryst with you?"

"Bloody hell."

Killian's tone was curt, but he managed to sound apologetic to Emma when he added, "Swan, I may have you call you back when they're gone."

"Hey! She likes us, don't you?"

Emma laughed as they continued to bicker like siblings. She'd never experienced relationships, platonic or romantic, that grew into irreplaceable connections, but she was beginning to appreciate and desire them as strongly as ever before.

Killian's quips and protests against his romantic streak made Emma laugh only the more. Though on a deeper level, it struck her as familiar. Only recently had she denied the very same streak to Ruby. The letters meant a great deal to Emma, and even just this short conversation was in the top ten list of deep, meaningful conversations she'd had since birth.

After a few more minutes, commotions of chairs scraping and offered farewells dropped into a comfortable silence. So when Killian shifted, now speaking directly into the phone, and quietly announced, "It's just the two of us now, Swan." - Emma felt ready to test whatever kind of relationship they'd begun.

"Are you propositioning me, Jones?" She teased. Flirting had never, nor would it ever be, Emma's strongest suit, but even Ruby shot her an impressed look.

"That depends. Can you be propositioned?"

A hint of suggestiveness danced along the line, and Killian's low voice sent charming shivers along the nape of Emma's neck. Clearing her throat once, she shifted her legs and cocked her head to one side with an impish grin. "Perhaps with music."

"One moment, love."

A sudden hasty battle occurred between Killian, the phone and another object. Emma threw her head back and laughed at his eagerness, but as soon as she heard soft guitar chords being plucked, she sobered into an equally anticipating silence.

"Killian...what song are you playing?"

"Just listen."

"At least tell me the title!"

"No, really, Swan. It's _'just listen'_.

Despite her amused smile, Emma still groaned at the awfulness of the joke. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hide it but unfortunately, Killian had already heard it, and laughed again. "I agree, that was a terrible joke. In fact, I suspect that would be the most pretentious song in the history of song writing."

"Well, I don't know about that." Emma deadpanned in amusement. "You're forgetting self-pitying teenagers wallowing in the grief of another break up."

"Please don't joke about break-ups, Swan. They keep the music business alive."

The line dissolved into shared laughter and Emma noticed Ruby staring at her with a bemused expression. She just shrugged and moved back into the kitchen.

"Killian? Can you play _'anchors and shipwrecks'_ for me?"

"Anything for you."

It should've echoed harmlessly, but there was an unspoken, heavy weight to Killian's promise that prickled Emma's heart into motion. This was a dangerous territory that Emma was only now beginning to dip her toes into. Dating. Romance. Whatever name was the official and proper one. She'd been absent for so long, but now the ocean welcomed her with a sensible harbour and port - Killian. At the same time, he seemed to offer a safe distance with adventure and interest. Killian wasn't careless and seemed understanding and charming. What was wrong with taking, as he was so fond of saying, a leap of faith?

Perhaps it was time.

Lost in thought, Emma only noticed he was playing a song when the first line pulled her out of a daze, and into a musical treasure. Acoustic and simple, Killian sung the song with a gentle ache of someone searching for a lost friend.

The chorus almost reduced Emma to tears. Whether it was the lyrics or the soft melody of Killian's voice, the soulful lullaby would haunt Emma for the rest of the week;

_I anchored my heart to the lonely shore,_

_In hope that it will always return._

_But a lady with green eyes and a most peculiar soul,_

_Taught me to love, and with love, i now yearn._

_My heart was once anchored,_

_Now it floats in the sea towards her._

"It's still a little rough around the edges, of course," Killian spoke quickly, unusually unsure of himself, and Emma found his uncertainty rather sweet. ",but I'm rather pleased with it so far...Swan?"

"I'm here...beautiful song..."

Realising she'd been staring into space with an awestruck expression, Emma suddenly sat back up in her chair and coughed once. "It's a, uh, beautiful song. Really."

"Thank you. I should be going now, Robin and David are sending me evil looks from across the studio, so I'd better get back to recording, but...could I call you again soon?"

"I'd like that."

"Excellent." There was a pause and this time, Killian cleared his throat. And Swan," He said quietly "I really am glad you called me."

Emma smiled at that. "Well, technically, you called me."

"That's true." Killian chuckled again. ", and it's also true that you picked up. You didn't have to."

"What can I say? I decided to take a leap of faith."

"Good advice."

Emma's smile only grew wider, and she allowed herself to imagine Killian's own smile amused and fond in its similar way. "The person who gave it is incredibly smart."

"Aye? I'm sure he'd be glad to hear it."

"You can tell him if you'd like."

"I might just do that."

Emma swallowed, and toyed with a strand of hair. "Then will you tell him something for me, Jones?"

"Anything."

There it was again. That charming surety. An impossibly confident and assured belief in what he was saying, that Killian would not only promise the world, but offer up good on his promise. And Emma believed him too. Emma Swan trusted a man she'd only known for a few weeks and had shared only a singular conversation with.

_Someone call the fed_, she thought dryly.

Finally, she quietly finished with, "I like that man very much."

Killian was also quiet for a moment. "And I, you, Emma."

He used her real name rarely, with a definite strength behind his words, and Emma held onto its tenderness in a brief moment of solitude before placing down the phone, leaving Emma with one less wall around her heart.

"Goodbye, Jones."

"Farewell, my dear, Swan. Until the next time."

* * *

**Hope you liked it :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my lovelies. Thank you to all who reviewed as usual. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

"So. What are we discussing today, Jones?"

"Peter Pan."

"Hm. Which version are we talking here?"

"I'm offended you even had to ask, Swan." Killian remarked dryly. "Why, the animated version, of course."

"A classics man. I'm impressed. How do you like it so far?"

"Well, I do feel rather sorry for this James fellow. All he was after is a little pirating fun. I doubt he was actually going to slaughter the Lost Boys, correct?"

"I never thought so."

Emma fell into silence for a moment. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head upon them, enjoying the comfortable sensation of newly washed denim soft against her flushed cheeks.

At least once a day, the pair had been continuing to frequently chat during Emma's lunch break. Often informally, and yes, sometimes a little awkwardly and shy, they'd discuss their days, the band's progress, and their little enjoyments outside of work. Killian's recording breaks were usually set around 8am, which aligned in perfect harmony with Emma's noon break, and their hourly talks seemed to pass by more and more quickly each time.

Occasionally, Robin, Victor or David would shout out a hello, or cheekily slip in a knowing remark about the sudden inspiration of Killian's song writing.

Two weeks had flown by without offering time for pause or thought. _Thank the gods for that, else I may, as Ruby so poetically dubs it, 'freak out', _Emma thought to herself_. _Just as she considered reading further into just how okay she truly was, a quiet voice cut through the moment.

"You alright there, Swan?"

Emma jumped with a start, registering Killian's gentle enquiry with a muttered curse. _Oh, hell._

"Yeah. I uh, sorry, where were we...oh!" She winced then, and slapped a shameful hand against her forehead. "Right. Peter Pan."

For once, Emma was grateful Killian was unable to notice the awkward shade of scarlet she was now sporting. A cough later, and she attempted to get back on track. "It's just...Peter Pan was my favourite film as a kid. Guess there was always something appealing about running around Neverland with a group of friends."

She smiled fondly, remembering a moment when she was around six or seven and had curled up with another foster kid, a shy little girl called Ella until they fell asleep on the settee. Encouraged by Killian's listening silence, she added, "Growing up, I had a copy of it that I took everywhere. I guess it was my comfort pillow, you know?"

Only silence greeted her, like a mournful ghost echoing its fate to an empty room. To an empty audience. Ignoring the growing heat licking painful flames over her cheeks and collar bone, Emma teased the red button on the phone, moments away from cancelling the call.

_Congratulations. You had to go and push him away._ Beads of sweat slipped her thumb nearer to the red button. You_ went too far this time. Too. Damn. Far. He doesn't care about-_

"Aye. I understand, Swan."

Hand still hovering over the phone, Emma's brow rose as she tilted her head against the mobile. "You...you do?" She flinched at the sound of the timid, meek voice that presented her as that same fearful child still.

There was a brief pause, and then, "The Jungle Book."

"Hm?"

A low chuckle travelled down the line, warm and quiet, like an encouraging whisper of respect. Emma's hand distanced from the red button, and came to rest upon her knee again. "_My_ favourite film, and blanket, growing up. _The Jungle Book_."

"Oh, sorry. I've never seen it."

Killian gave a mock gasp, and she bit back a laugh. "I disown you, Swan, until further notice."

"Please. You couldn't handle not talking to me even for a day."

"Is that a challenge?"

"No." Emma blurted out a little too quickly. She didn't need another reason to appear so sickeningly yearning. Life wasn't a rom-com for god's sake. It needed to be earned carefully.

"My, my." Killian quipped, and she could almost feel the gleeful smirk brushing against the phone. "Eager today, aren't we?"

"Shut up, Jones."

"Make me."

"I can cut you off, you know." Emma warned, but it was a pathetically empty threat, and even she knew it.

However Killian replied with a hasty, "Please don't."

"I won't. Not yet anyway."

"You hurt me, Swan."

"Apologies. So, The Jungle Book, hm?"

"Ah, yes. A brilliant, cinematic masterpiece of music, friendship and songs. You really must see it, love. It'll change your life."

Killian paused again, and she waited a moment, unsure of whether to comment or allow a moment to pass. Every pause was significant, and if Killian was anything like her, it invited the chance to delve a little deeper.

"I remember Liam and I used to watch it whenever our parents were away on business." He admitted quietly. "Which was an awful lot."

_And there it is. _Emma thought, though not unkindly. Although she'd been right, barely felt a flicker of surprise registered._ We're more alike than I thought. Or dared to hope._

When Killian spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse, and Emma identified it instantly, understanding the pain of vulnerability as an emotion close to heart. She hated the way his voice dipped and wavered with sorrow, and desperately wanted to hear his low laugh or teasing quips again, but instead, she simply listened.

"He'd always tease me every time, claim it was childish and boring, but I knew he secretly loved it just as much as I did. You know, Swan, it's been almost twenty bloody years and I miss him still."

A protective ache washed over her. "I'm sorry, Killian."

Losing people was a rare event that Emma had never gone through as she'd not ever known people long enough to lose them. Friends were merely acquaintances. Colleagues were simply workmates. Hell, it had taken her all but four years to form a strong friendship with Ruby, and no one before had tried so hard to get behind those damn walls.

"You'd think it would be easier by now but it still feels like an open wound."

"Well, he was your brother." Emma reasoned.

"He was a stubborn bastard, that's a certain. Knew all the dangers yet still went out like the bloody hero he dreamed of becoming."

Killian broke off with a forced chuckle, and she was painfully aware of the laboured rhythm in-between his breathes. Once again, it was all too familiar with Emma, who could remember fighting back tears as though it were her damn life goal to weep a pathway through life.

"It...do I even have a right to be angry, Emma?" He asked in quiet reflection. There was little comfort to be gained, but both Killian and Emma knew that somehow airing those anxieties and painful memories helped a great deal. "I feel guilty as hell whenever I curse his name, but I can't stop feeling this..."

"Emptiness." She finished quietly, knowing all too well the swelling rage of self-contempt and bitterness towards another.

Another understanding silence overwhelmed the early afternoon. Killian then sighed, and his usual careful composure began to resurface. "I feel as though I need to forgive him. Which is beyond absurd as all Liam did was accidently die. He didn't leave on purpose, I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier."

Now it was Emma's turn to sigh. A heavy weight residing in her stomach exhaled, memories of abandonment finally having the chance to surface and possibly, fade into words. After listening to Killian's confession, a small part of Emma felt as though she'd owned up to her own fears.

It would never be easy or relaxing to talk about the past. Especially one of regret and shame. But it was easier to talk to someone who understood. Someone who'd not only gone through similar loss, but knew when to speak, what to say, and most importantly, when to listen. And Killian was just that person. Her person.

_Well, not mine. He's not mine_.

A hopeful voice whispered, _'not yet'_, but she quickly hushed it.

"Swan," Killian seemed tentative now, that small waver back in his voice once again. He spoke cautiously, his words carefully thought out, as though saying simply one wrong word would be out of line. "Have you forgiven your ex?"

_Oh_.

"My...ex?"

"The one who broke your heart. Have you forgiven him?"

A sudden snap later, and that recognisable constriction of fear tightened around Emma's stomach, like a waistband of bubbling anxiety. Any attempt at breathing seemed impossible. Drawing her knees up again, Emma ignored the childish instinct to curl into a ball, or to draw herself further in, and in, into a warm cocoon of innocence and-

"Swan? I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm forthright without meaning to be. If I was out of place, which I now fear I was, forgive me. I shouldn't have...well, that wasn't entirely gentlemanly of me."

Emma coughed in surprise. "How did you...I never...?" She protested weakly.

Curiosity over how the hell Killian had worked it out won out over the fear of the past, perhaps only for a moment, but it still conquered. He'd not only hit the nail on the head of the _Emma Swan's childhood-and-past-issues _box_,_ but had deemed it easy to discover as well.

"Open book."

She choked back a gasp.

"Well, not entirely." Killian admitted. He then continued to breeze on as Emma gaped, jaw dropped wide in undignified surprise, and listened.

"I worked it out after a while. The first sign was your wonderfully vigorous roommate, Ruby. See, I thought, why would she take your romantic life into her own hands, unless she seemed it approprate? After that, it was fairly simple. Either you've cut yourself off from dating because a, a previous love went wrong, or b, you're a workaholic. I assumed the first after reading your first letter. Irony and dry humour act as a barrier, and Swan, believe me, you use them to a marvellous extent."

He gave a low laugh, and then sobered to quietly add, "Besides, I'd recognise the sound of a kindred cynic with a broken heart anywhere. Building walls around your heart...I suppose it's a sound I know all too well, Swan, and I respect it."

No words could fully explain the variation of emotions Emma felt in that moment. As she'd sadly thought before, no one had ever made such an attempt to understand on that deeper level. Hope had been disregarded that anyone ever _would_.

So, finding Killian, someone who also carried around a difficult past, waiting to share not only companionship and peace, but also the pain of difficult journeys not quite finished yet, was a goddamn miracle for Emma.

Eyes closed, she quickly pressed her chin firmly down on her raised knees to seize the quivering of her lower lips. _I'll be damned if i start crying just at the mention of...him._

Opening her eyes again, Emma took a moment to savour the sun glistening down on the harbour. Pastels of pinks and oranges streaked across the blue sky, and there was barely a cloud in sight.

_Oh, hell._

Suddenly realising she'd left Killian on the phone; she straightened out her shoulders and mentally shook herself back into reality.

"Sorry, I'm...still here."

"I know."

Wishing there was an easy way to simply _start_, Emma ran a hand along the concrete bench she was sitting upon and sighed.

Assertiveness had always been a strong point, so she used it now, reflecting it inwards to the remote, empty parts of her heart beginning to be released. _I can do this. Killian's here with me. I can do this. I will do this. _

She nodded once for good measure. _Here goes..._

_"_Neal. His name was Neal."

Unsure of what she'd been expecting, there was no sudden relief, however the tight band of fear crippling her stomach did indeed loosen, so she quickly carried on before it protested.

"We were both seventeen. I uh, met him in a car park, actually."

"Romantic."

"Shut up, Jones."

"I'm sorry. Continue."

"He wasn't a bad guy or anything. Just that...we were both messed up in our own ways. It was never meant to last. I had my issues, Neal, his. I fell in love with him, like the naïve teenage girl I was, and it all went downhill from then on."

Emma paused, staring out into the water and seeking courage in the relapsing waves and calming dips and dives of the tide. "One day, we both got reckless and cocky and tried to rob a convenient store downtown. You know,"

Surprise flickered across Emma's face when a small laugh escaped her lips. "I actually remember thinking it was the most daring, badass moment of my life...and then I got arrested."

Her smile dropped, fading almost in the same instant it formed. "Turns out I'm not as fast a runner as I thought I was. I got caught, arrested, the same day." She swallowed away any fear and stared back out into the waves.

"And Neal?"

"Ran." Emma said quickly.

Thinking back to the moment of her arrest, the singular shot that stood out, like a painful freeze-frame imprinted forever around Emma's walls, was watching Neal's faded jeans and messy curls disappear from her life as he fled around the corner. That moment struck her the most. How easy could it be to simply get up and leave? Apparently, very easy. The young, love-craving Emma felt that betrayal every day for years. She questioned how easy and carefree some people could abandon others, without a goodbye or check-up.

"I mean, we never made any promises to go back or wait for each other, but..."

"How long did you wait for him?"

"A year."

"Gods."

"Yeah." Emma grimaced, her lips now set in a thin line. "I didn't take it too well, as you know."

"Understandable."

"Thanks."

"And you never saw Neal again?"

Emma shrugged, and then realising the gesture was pointless, hurried on, "Oh. No. I tried searching for him, but the guy knew how to bury himself too well. God knows what trouble he's up to now. After a year, I gave up. Found a profession more worthy of my time, and also more accepted by the law, and never looked back. Until recently."

"Ah, sorry."

"It's fine. Really, it is. It doesn't feel as bad to talk about as I feared it would. Not nice, but...peaceful, I guess. I suspect it's not the healthiest of options to keep one's past locked up for years."

"Too right, lass."

"I'd better get back soon. Our hours' almost up, Jones."

"Are those two lovely ladies still giving you hassle?"

Emma grinned at the reminder. "They are."

Usually, a bails bondsperson worked individually, but ever since she'd transferred to another department two years ago, she'd worked down at the sheriff's department; taking part in general tasks such as filing, call managing and coffee runs.

Since the changeover, Emma had also made a conscious effort to get to know the two other women who worked in the department, Mary-Margaret and Belle, and she was pleased she'd done so. Petite and loving to all those she met, Mary-Margaret, adored mother hen of the entire station, was as close to a mother as Emma had ever come furthest to having. On the other hand, Belle, whilst equally dainty and quiet, had opened up to having an adventurous streak and Emma regarded both women with fondness, always grateful for their company.

Killian laughed heartily. "Do say hello for me, Swan."

"Will do."

She then reconsidered.

After all, it was just that morning that Mary-Margaret inquired about Killian for the fourth time that week - and it was only now Tuesday afternoon - to which Emma denied the claims of hiding her new _'gorgeous, mysterious boyfriend slash rock god hottie'_ from them. Laughing as they groaned and begged for details, Emma fled the department at noon with a victorious grin and headed towards the harbour to call Killian.

"On another hand, let's not give them another reason to start picking out flower arrangements."

"Oh?" Killian's voice was teasing now. Once again, the low, playful quip sent delightful shivers along Emma's spine. "Wedding plans? Already?"

_Hell_.

"Well, would you look at the time? How it flies by!" Emma retorted dryly, and stood from the bench to stretch out her wooden legs. "I really must be off. Goodbye, Jones."

"Wait, wait, Swan. Not so fast."

Emma hid a growl of disapproval and began to roll out her shoulders, relaxing into the stretch whilst keeping a steady hold over the phone

_Damn it, let me go._

He was silent for a moment then, the only sound coming from his quiet breathes echoing down the phone. Despite the distance, there was a close proximity that felt intimate, and Emma felt it like a magnetic pull.

"I just wanted to say thank you." He began, finally, after what felt like minutes but was most likely mere seconds. "For...sharing your past, again."

"And thank you for listening." Emma started to walk along the harbour, back to the office, and as a gentle breeze urged her onwards, she quietly added, "I'm glad I didn't scare you away."

As soon as the words were spoken, she felt the tension snap once again, and every tightened muscle and anxiety began to unwind and relax into a surprisingly comfortable, vulnerable state.

"Never." Killian reassured firmly.

Although his reply softened the walls around her heart, Emma dejected there was still at least ten years' worth of issues to break through. So although her reply was quiet, and perhaps at a glance, sad, it was also wistfully hopeful. "I almost believe that."

"Perhaps one day you will. Until the next time, Swan."

"Goodbye, Jones."

* * *

"Robin," Killian called across the room, hanging up the phone with a pleased grin. His latest conversation with Emma was one of the longest yet, and the most gratifying and memorable one also. There had always been a natural flow between them, but it seemed to grow and spark with every new day, and Killian felt renewed with a wistful hope he hadn't felt in years.

_Gods, I may be falling for Emma Swan, _he realised, and an even bigger grin captured Killian's expression.

"Oi, mate...?" He waved an arm in Robin's direction, but to no avail could he capture the guitarist's attention, for he was too lost in scribbling down chords across the other side of the studio. They were soon about to get cracking with another track on the album.

Finally, Robin looked up with a sheepish nod. "Mmhm? Sorry, Jones, miles away." He scratched his ear and offered Killian a bashful smile. "You were asking?"

The corners of Killian's lips pulled into a grin spreading ear to ear.

"How much do you reckon a plane ticket is to New York?"

* * *

**Love to you all, and I'll try and update as soon as I can :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is definitely an Emma-focused chapter, which I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

"And how is our charming Irishman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh?"

Mary-Margaret, or just 'Mary' to her friends, raised an eyebrow at Emma from across the coffee table, who in returned, sighed. Already, guilt began to flicker inside at her bitter remark. It was uncalled for and she regretted the harsh tone.

"It's not deliberate." She quickly explained. "He warned me last week, the band are knuckling down and finishing off the album in the next few days."

"Ah, I see."

At that, Mary-Margaret relaxed and smiled at the waiter who had come back with their drink orders. Occasionally, during lunch breaks, the three women bought lunch at a small, homely diner around the corner, Granny's coffee place. Always ordinary coffee for Belle, hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of cinnamon for Emma, and a liquor-filled mocha for Ruby - if Emma's friend ever managed to escape her own cafe, an Italian place a couple of miles away - and Mary-Margaret's order often varied. Today, she ordered a breakfast tea, which usually sub-consciously gave way to a good-natured discussion and advice-giving.

It was the first time in a long while they'd all managed to arrange time together, and although she felt comforted by her friend's presences, there was an unusually heavy weight lingering inside Emma. Taking up a small teaspoon, she scooped up a dollop of cream and popped it into her mouth with another sigh. She already felt guilty having revealed her bitterness over Killian's busy timetable, but it only grew.

"You know, it wouldn't surprise me if they forget to eat sometimes." She muttered stubbornly, snapping of a piece of biscuit. "Music first, life, second."

To the left, Ruby, who had paused to take a large gulp of her mocha, scoffed. "Now _that_ ought to be a t-shirt."

"Right? I should start a company."

Ruby nodded, and held her coffee mug up in salute. "I'd buy."

"Make it two." Mary-Margaret chipped in dryly. She swallowed down a sip of tea and added, in a noticeably more serious tone, "But really, Emma, dear, if you're that worried, you can always call the manager and ask..."

"God, no." Emma winced. "How pitiful would that sound? Besides, Killian doesn't owe me anything." She finished in a mumble, ignoring the doubtful expressions on all three of her friends. Subtly was clearly _not_ their expertise.

"Mmhm."

"Ruby." Belle warned, surprisingly sharp given her usual mild temperament.

Also co-manager of Harlem library in Manhattan, Belle travelled between New York and Manhattan frequently, and was warmly welcomed wherever she travelled. She was one of those people who was not only likeable, but judgement-free, and Emma was honoured to have a friend as open and optimistic as Belle. Perhaps it would inspire her own inner-confidence one day.

So her sharp manner surprised Emma, as well as Ruby, who narrowed her eyes before holding up both hands in surrender. She shrugged off Emma's glare with a smirk. "What? I'm just saying. Killian is hot. He sings. He's Irish. What the hell are you waiting for? I'd have snatched him up by now, that's all."

"Well, I'm not you." Emma retorted.

_And thank god, or I'd have slept with him, kicked him out the next morning, and we'd never speak again._

"Unfortunately, true." Ruby winked. "We can't all be this classy."

Emma quickly looked away then, refusing to meet Ruby's knowing grin. She didn't need to give her roommate yet another victory.

The singular problem of having close friends was just that. They know you. And they knew Emma. Flaws, stubbornness issues and all, Ruby, Belle and Mary-Margaret were almost experts on her walls and self-preservations tactics.

Quiet for a few beats, she cursed the drop in spirit. Once high, her abrupt snaps had dulled it to a mild chilled mood, and Emma knew the faults lay within her determination to avoid issues.

_Make it right, before it's too late._

"Ruby," Her voice was quiet now, and she swallowed down any embarrassment and forced her gaze slowly upwards. "Sorry, I...I didn't mean to snap."

There was no hesitation in Ruby's reply. All she said, simply, and pleasantly, was, "I know." - and sealed the words with a quick flash of teeth in a charming grin. Emma knew instantly that no harm was done.

"Besides, it's not like Killian and I are dating." She continued to toy with the edge of the mug in mid-thought, running a careful fingertip around the edge as her friends listened with intent. "We're just friends. If that at all."

It was Belle's turn to contribute, so she cleared her throat before carefully asking, "Do you want it to be...more?"

"No clue."

The sentence had seemed so innocent coming from Belle, but Emma realised the depth of its promise and commitment. Wanting it to be more was complicated. It would mean time, effort and a hell of a lot more waiting around. Ireland and New York had an enormous distance between them, and surely that wouldn't bode well for a relationship.

_Plus an entire damn ocean_, Emma thought wryly, curtly paying little attention to the catch in her throat that threatened to tempt her eyes to water. Oh, god. She wasn't about to cry right here in the middle of broad daylight, inside Granny's cafe, in front of the three best friends she'd ever had. It definitely wasn't happening.

_No way, José._

Quietly paying attention to the conversation now taking place - Mary-Margaret was telling some amusing tale of a court case - Emma began to focus her energy on swirling the cream into her drink, watching the teaspoon trace small circles around the rim. It was almost hypnotic, blocking away every troublesome thought, and once the cream was fully dissolved, Emma sipped the drink as slowly as possible to avoid speaking again.

I _can't keep thinking about this all the time. Damn it, get it together. _She drained her mug, finally, and set it down with a firm slam and a definite thought of, we **a**_**re**__ just friends. There's nothing else worth considering. Just leave it alone._

At the same time, another part of Emma' brain joyfully cheered, _'what's the worst that could happen?_' whilst other fragments fought against that vulnerability; firing painful reminders of _jail_, and _abandonment_, and _alone, _and she was back to square one and torn all over again.

Twenty minutes later, Ruby bid a cheerful farewell as the other three - Emma, Mary-Margaret and Belle - headed off back down to the station for their afternoon rounds, leaving Emma still no less torn than she had been before.

* * *

On an average norm, sorting through mail was the equivalent act of attending a distant relative's birthday. It wasn't overally important but it needed to be done. It wasn't fun, yet was a necessity.

Since Killian, receiving mail returned Emma to a childlike state. Like waiting for that Christmas morning feeling. She'd deny it, of course, but every time a first class Dublin post stamp appeared on a letter, a special smile reserved only for her pen pal reappeared. However, the past week, glum from a lack of letters, seemed as though Emma had awoken to find out she'd slept through Christmas.

_Here we go again, _she thought in a downcast. Outside, the promising sunny morning served as a contrast to her discouraged frown.

It had now been eight days since she'd wrote to, spoken to, or heard from Killian. It was beyond frustrating for Emma, who was now confused between his absence and the growing restlessness of jumbled emotions.

Sorting through the post that morning, it was one dull brown envelope after the next, with the occasional trash advert thrown in-between.

"Great." She mumbled. Shoving them straight into the nearest bin, no trace of amusement was found in Emma's expression that bright morning. "Absolutely perfect. Just what I needed-"

Until-

_Hold on a sec._

The familiar, dark green envelope of the Irish Post service felt like a lottery ticket in her quivering hands. A laugh - hell, a goddamn _giggle_ - escaped her lips. Emma held a finger against her lips in surprise before brushing it off with a shrug; settling for a delighted grin instead.

_Calm down, Swan_, she could picture Killian speaking in his usual delightful lilt as clear as the daylight, _There is such a thing as too eager, love._

She smirked at inner-Killian's voice and quickly clicked her key into the apartment block. "Shut up, Jones."

Whistling a joyful tune, and walking- fine - _skipping _up the stairs like the grown, level-headed woman she was, Emma shoved the other post under her arm and forced a nail under Killian's letter. The seal broke as her heart thumped steadily away.

_You're most definitely not over-excited;_ she reminded an inner part of her, ready to jump out on a spring and yell, _'finally_!'. Y_ou are merely...distantly curious over what the hell he's been up to and why he hasn't gotten around to calling or writing or explained-_

_Okay, you're a __little__ desperate. Only a smidge. That's fine. Ruby would say that's a good sign. _

Emma grimaced then, this time remembering Ruby's triumphant dance around the apartment the last time she'd admitted to simply 'enjoying Killian's letters'. Her roommate's reaction to _this_ would be borderline insane.

_She'd laugh and call you desperate, which is definitely how you're acting right now, damn it._

Call it a sudden renewal of happiness or faith, Emma really didn't care what anyone thought. Later on, she'd reflect on this moment, at the height of sudden solitude and cling to it as tightly as possible; unable to appreciate it until it was gone.

Later on, it would mean everything. It'd keep her feeling sane and warm and loved.

For now, Killian's letter felt like coming home.

_Dear, Swan,_

_To excuse my lack of phone calls this past week, I'm writing to you in hope that you'll forgive me. _

_The lads and I have received incredible news earlier this week that has unfortunately, cut back on our free time. This letter is currently, in fact, being drafted surrounded by Robin's awful off-key tuning and Victor's complaining about a certain Irish beer that 'isn't good enough for a rock star'._

_Now, this is news that I'd prefer to share with you outside an informal letter, so I am afraid it'll have to wait - I know, please refrain from your desire to murder me, Swan, but I promise you, it shall be worth the wait._

_(I hope so.)_

_Another thing that may interest you, Swan, is that I finally got around to seeing Hercules, as per your suggestion, and let me say, I was not prepared for Megara. I can see why Hercules was so whipped. The lady has everything. I agree now that Hades is rather amusing. __And also that Zeus is a greater pain in the arse than he is a hero. Who decides to banish their brother to the underworld without expecting it to bloody return later in payback? _

_(What a joke.)_

_I know this letter has been too short, but trust me when I say, I would call you every moment possible if not for Robin, Victor, David or some other pest crawling down my throat like bloody insects. Say hello to Robin, Swan, he's currently yelling abuse at me for taking a five minute time-out._

_(Apparently those are illegal now.)_

_All will be explained when I manage to speak to you soon, but for now, I hope you are well, Swan, and that New York is treating you as wonderfully as you deserve to be. In the meantime, try not to miss me too much._

_Yours, Jones._

_P.S. If all goes to plan, this letter should reach you on the 16th when soon, all will become clear, I assure you. _

_P.P.S. Do not expect roses at your door, but perhaps a gift will appear sooner or later. Just be sure to head off to lunch a tad early. For me? Much obliged._

With a quick glance at her phone, Emma was impressed to see the dates align. Indeed it was the 16th. Killian had timed it perfectly. Though what he had timed correctly was still to be discovered.

Brief as it was rushed, Killian's hurry was also evident in the looped hand-writing and occasional scribbles, but Emma's smile only widened as she read on. A growing pressure of weight, building up over the past week, slowly began to release, and Emma felt as though she could finally breathe again. Relief flooded every inch of her body. Both arms and legs, mind and soul felt free.

The letter hadn't even mentioned anything important.

Hell, Killian could've written about the political instability of Ireland and Emma would be overjoyed. Simply because he wrote. Finally, and not short of ambiguity, but he had reached out.

She frowned lightly at the mysterious undertone in Killian's letter. He seemed not only distracted, but purposefully keeping her out of whatever loop he was in. Trust was to be earned with Emma, and whilst she considered Killian trustworthy, this was suspicious.

_What are you up to, Jones?_

Work that morning stretched out with all the painfully slow, lingering pace of a lame tortoise. Files were filed, calls were answered, and talks were talked. Yet time refused to budge. All in all, Emma hid her anticipation now and then between a jiggling leg under the desk. Once in a while, a few impatient growls were expressed, as she awaited Killian's lunch time call.

Gone were the days of faking interest.

By now, Emma was eager and proud. So when she glanced up, after having almost drifted off by gazing at a half-completed screen of copyright data, and the clock was finally almost at noon, Emma began to close down programs and settle her files into some sort of order.

_Bzz._

A vibration suddenly jolted Emma into movement. She frowned, unsure of the source, and then realised with delight she'd left her phone on silent. Out next to her computer, the mobile buzzed happily away.

"Swan. Emma, Swan." She answered quietly, leaning back on her desk chair and feeling a slow grin unfolding. "Reporting for duty."

With a chuckle, Killian caught on quickly. "Your mission is as followed, 007. Escape from the station precinct in precisely two minutes, and head on down to the harbour. I'll call you there with further instructions. Goodbye-"

"Wait! Hold on, Jones!" Ignoring a few curious stares from the office, Emma ducked down to hide the phone and held the line. "What's going on?"

"You'll see."

"You're an idiot."

"Just trust me. Adieu, Swan."

Killian's pleased laughter disappeared as he cut the line cut off, leaving Emma caught between confusion and a re-awakened high-spirit.

_Cryptic, but what the hell._

Swinging her bag over her shoulder, Emma threw her coat over her arm and headed over to the larger, main desk where a handsome man in his late 30s watched her approach with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Sheriff, do you mind if I take off early?"

Sheriff Graham Humbert, greatly loved by all the female staff, and most of the men too, answered with a warm dismissal of, "Sure. We're not too busy here this morning, but I'll call you back earlier if we're in need of it, alright?"

"Thanks, I owe you one. See you later!" She gave a cheery wave, before turning to walk briskly out of the department, blissfully unaware of the teasing looks given by Belle and Mary-Margaret until Belle was unable to help herself and jibe, "Give Killian our best!"

"Ha." Emma retorted. Even she didn't sound convinced by the flippant remark, so resorted to sporting a dazzling grin instead.

There was only about a ten minute walk between the harbour and the sheriff's station, but Emma was soon to realise just how quickly one's mood could change given just that small slither of time. Oblivious to what was, quite literally, around the corner, Emma held the phone like an Olympic Torch, careful to keep it close and waiting for Killian's call. She walked alongside other passers-by with easy rhythm in her step. Some, rushing for work, social gatherings, or meetings, others were clearly less afraid of time; pausing to admire flower stalls and purchase hot dogs and cheap souvenirs by nearby stores.

_What a beautiful day,_ she realised then, enjoying the sun's warm rays against her skin. A couple of swirling clouds hovered overhead, and Emma frowned, wishing them away to embrace the vast blue sky.

There was simply no point in denying it now. Whatever had come over her was completely and entirely down to one Killian Jones. Charming, witty, idiotic, Killian Jones had Emma Swan in a daze

_And god damn him, I feel amazing._

Reaching another busy street corner, Emma straightened her shoulders and welcomed another smile curving at her lips for the at least fourth time that day. This feeling of content and bliss weaving its way into her mind and heart and thoughts was powerful. She was happily lost in it, for the first time in, well, a long time.

She began to turn the corner-

_To be honest, the first time since_-

-and, in the midst of her whirlwind of emotions, collided straight into a young man.

_Hell_.

"-Neal?"

_No_.

Emma's eyes widened as recognition kicked in with a painful stab of torment.

_This is not happening_.

But it was, and it was occurring right then, in that moment, and with no escape. Eyes were unable to quit staring. Hands and feet were unable to move. Frozen in the most agonising of pauses, Emma felt her entire body curl into itself, as Neal eyed her up with a completely casual and less pained gaze.

She took him in with a flittering glance. Time had won him more favours. Dressed in a smart suit, Neal was still as handsome as she remembered, with a cheerful face and sharp features. He stood tall and confident, and _fuck_, if it didn't break Emma's heart all over again.

"No way. Emma? It is you!" He exclaimed in delight, and she flinched away from his bolt of merry laughter. Whether he noticed or not, Neal carried on. "I thought it was, but you know, it's been so long!"

His voice was casual, and his gaze was friendly and warm, as though talking to a mere acquaintance, not an ex-girlfriend who had suffered through his loss, and abandonment, and-

"You look amazing! How...how have you been? What have you been up to? Do you live here, in New York? It really is great to see you."

So many questions from Neal, yet Emma felt hers burning away at her insides._ Where did you go? Why didn't you wait for me? Was I not enough for you? Why, why, why..._

Noticing Neal's grin begin to waver, she quickly stammered out a, "Yeah, I...I live here now. Have done for a while."

"Awesome. Well, you look great."

"You too."

She did _not_ just compliment that asshole.

He smiled again, and some old part of her, still praying for approval, returned it with sickening ease. It upset her more than it angered her though. The past ought to stay in the past. This unpleasant surprise had destroyed that newfound sense of happiness she'd required mere moments ago.

She clutched the phone for support, sweating palms and fingers anchoring her sanity to it with strong conviction. If Killian were here, Emma knew she'd be clasping his hand by now.

"So, what's going on with you?" She managed to choke out.

At that moment, a young woman, around 5'8 with a kind face, gorgeous smile and dressed in a fashionable black maxi dress, appeared and draped her arm around Neal's shoulder. "Found you." She grinned.

They exchanged a greeting kiss, and that was it. Emma felt completely wrecked. Torn and bleeding from the inside, she bit her lip to hide its quivering, and managed a polite nod to the other woman.

Neal turned back to her with another smile and breezed, "Hey. Emma, this is my wife, Tamara. Tamara, this is an old friend of mine, Emma."

Old friend.

Old. Friend.

Not, 'the girlfriend I left in jail' or, 'the girl I abandoned without even saying a damn goodbye to'.

No. Just, 'old friend'.

_Asshole_, she cursed again, but somehow managed to return Tamara's friendly handshake.

_I've wasted my life missing you_, she wanted to scream until it bled out her voice. _You clearly didn't waste any time moving on, did you? I was ruined. Ruined and broken, all because of you. _W_here the hell were you?_

Neal didn't even appear vaguely remorseful. Whereas Emma was round-shouldered and passive, her infamous ex stood proudly, an arm around Tamara as they chatted. She only picked up occasional pieces of what they were saying, some adorable origin story of how they met, but Emma felt the sound cut out with a knife of regret.

"We're hoping for a little girl, aren't we?"

That caught Emma's attention.

"Excuse me, you are!" Tamara poked Neal in the sides with a playful jibe. "I think it'll be a boy. Just as handsome as his father."

She felt her neck jar as she snapped her head up abruptly, eyes widening as she took full notice of Tamara. Smile wide, and eyes alight with a special warm glow, Emma's stomach clenched as she fought to avoid doubling over in a full breakdown.

_Not just a girlfriend or a partner._

_A wife._

_A wife, and a goddamn baby on the way._

Distress overwhelmed her, but she kept a small smile on her face, refusing to show Neal just what the hell he was doing to her right then.

"A child...you two are expecting?"

"I'm not showing just yet. Still got 6 months to go."

A shard of glass twisting in her heart, Emma couldn't remember a time she felt this empty. "Congratulations." She forced out.

Numbness wove its way into her voice, and all that was left, was a broken reminder of a young girl, jailed at 17 facing the man she'd once loved, love another.

"I'm really sorry, but we have to be on our way. Off to tell my folks the good news." Tamara shot her an apologetic smile, and tugged at Neal's arm. "It was great to meet you, Emma. You'll have to come round for coffee soon."

Neal flashed his teeth in a wide grin again. "We insist."

_Of course you do._

Watching them side-step back into the crowd, Emma stared after the pair as they disappeared, taking a part of her dignity as they did so.

A handful more dark grey clouds swirled overhead, and Emma cursed their timing with irony. How the hell had Neal moved on just like that? _Expecting a kid too, don't forget_, part of her chimed in. He didn't even apologise.

Not enough string of curses were appropriate enough to describe Emma's seething anger. True, she was hurt, and more than upset, but after the initial regret, all that was left now was that growing bitterness and frustrated anger.

Suddenly, as though anchoring her back into a more pleasant reality, Emma realised she was clutching her mobile so fiercely, it had dented tiny marks into her fingertips. Red, angry marks that would leave semi-permanent scars.

Just like Neal.

Neal.

Neal-

_Killian_, the phone seemed to persist, and after a few more moments to control her laboured breathing, Emma shook her head of Neal, and jail, and married and kids - and brought the phone up to her lips. The cool metal instantly calmed her nerves.

_I should go_.

Remembering how gleeful she'd been before bumping into Neal, Emma battled with herself for a minute or two. A mental image of ice cream, a bad film and curled up on the sofa crying seemed to call out to her. Yet another did also. One of going to the harbour, finding possible solitude in the ocean and Killian's call. Remembering the joy of his letter tugged her in the direction of the sea.

_I could go._

Now would be an excellent time for another leap of faith. She considered it again, eyes torn between her apartment's direction, and the other; the awaiting harbour.

_Screw Neal, I'm going._

Whatever news Killian wanted to share, or whatever cute adventure he was sending her on, Emma felt a small smile tug at her lips again. It was minimal, but also a start. And right now, any start seemed more positive than an ending.

_I can't let anyone dictate my life. Not anymore. Not after that. _

The awkward meeting only reinforced this belief.

Quietly, and lost in thoughts that were neither joyful nor tragic, Emma walked along the docks, towards the corner bench seat she always took. The sky was a gorgeous mixture of blues; teal and turquoise streaking across the sky as though painted in a joyous burst of colour. The sun also peaked out, trailing a beam of light along the docks.

_Huh. _

She frowned down at the phone, still in her hands, and slowed her walk.

_Shouldn't he have called by now?_

The bench was yet to be in sight, just around the elegant bend of slanted concrete. Perhaps today was a coincidence, but for the second time that day, Emma was greeted with a surprise just around the corner.

In the present, standing before her in the flesh, - or, more precisely, sitting- adorned all his attractive glory, was Killian Jones.

Dressed in a white band shirt, black waistcoat and leather pants that seemed to be unlawfully tight, he sported a cheerful grin and sinfully messy brown hair. Strands stood out at the ends, and curled around his cheekbones. One leg rested on top of her favourite bench as he lounged casually. On further notice, anxiety was evident in the rhythmic tapping of his lean fingers against the wood, and the chewing of his lip that caused all sorts of unholy thoughts racing through Emma's mind.

When his searching gaze caught her standing there, mouth agape in surprise, Killian shot to his feet and dropped into a low bow. He then raised his head and grinned again.

"Swan." He breathed. "Did you miss me?"

* * *

**Just a few things to clarify. **

**One, I don't hate Neal. I simply wanted to keep the aspects of abandonment Emma felt and use them to further her conflicted emotions in the story. Two, this was a rather painful chapter, but I wanted it to explore Emma a bit more and flesh out that regret. **

**On another note, we're now about halfway through with this fic, so I hope you're enjoying the ride still :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, the next three chapters are set over one day/night, which I have dubbed the, '**_Emma and Killian in New York trilogy'. _

**Part 1 is the meeting, part 2, the date-ish, and part 3, the 'what now?' and 'where do we go from here' worries. **

**On another note, I'm having laptop issues, so I may have slower updates.**

* * *

The moment he saw her approach, Killian knew he was well and truly screwed in the most beautiful of ways.

Dressed in figure-cutting blue denim jeans, a simple black shirt and a burgundy leather jacket suited to a level of clear self-preservation, Emma Swan was a vision. There was an undeniable presence surrounding her. As though she possessed an orbit of not only one, but two auras; both as complex, yet wondrous, as the other. A dark look was woven into her narrowed eyes, brow raised in a stream of complicated thoughts as Emma continued to slowly walk around the corner. The online profile picture was a mockery of the soft waves and high cheekbones. In person, she truly was a goddess.

_If Victor was here, he'd snap a photo of your awestruck face and post it everywhere_. _Pull yourself together, moron_, he thought, half paying attention and half admiring Emma still.

To some, she would seem threatening in strength. A power constructed from a strong desire to keep it together and take on the world with careful preposition. However, Killian found it the more appealing. He recognised the look of an old soul battling against a taunting past. Even the quick pace and lingering eyes, searching for anything; something, someone-

_Him_.

Killian's sleep-deprived state - blame the long flight; it was a jittering turbulence nightmare - woke with a delighted grin as their eyes finally met across the walkway. Describing Emma's reaction as 'stunned' would only be a drastic understatement. Her jaw hung open, eyes widening as she took in his appearance with a sweeping, though definitely approving, glance.

_Like what you see, love? Don't be ashamed, so do I._

Though despite the brazen thoughts, Killian felt at lost for words.

A warm tension hung in the air, building through the brightening sun and blue sky overhead. Loose strands of hair fell into his eyes as he stood, and Killian, unable to help himself as usual, swept into a bow before meeting Emma's surprised look with a mischievous yet, hopefully, welcoming smirk.

"Swan,"

His teasing remark came out more or less a relieved breath, and he cursed his inability to seem casual. "Did you miss me?"

Emma was closer now. She'd stepped forwards; now hovering a few feet away on the sidewalk as she absently chewed her lip. A cautious stare bore into his gaze and in the lingering pause, Killian wondered if she was unhappy to see him. Despite the unusual reaction, his smile grew genuine, in hope that she'd mirror the gesture, but Emma only shoved her hands into the back of her jean pockets and greeted him with hostility.

_Something's wrong. _

He knew Emma had walls as high as the bloody China wall, but this seemed…familiar.

_And sudden. Definitely sudden_, he confirmed, taking in the passive body language once more. Matters were only confirmed when she blurted out a sudden, "What the hell are you doing here?"

_Perhaps this wasn't a good idea after all._

Killian's eyebrow rose. "Excellent choice of first words, love. Abrupt, yet memorable." He teased. "I was hoping for a warmer welcome."

There was another pause, and Killian used it to study Emma once more. Correctly, there was hostility in her posture. Rounded shoulders and flickering eyes refusing to meet his own. She ran a quick hand through her hair before glancing over at the ocean. Only then did Emma relax, and only slightly.

A few moments passed until she looked back. This time, he was pleased to see a small smile and a hint of peace hidden in those previously guarded green eyes.

"Sorry," She said slowly, as though forcing the apology physically brought her pain. Emma cleared her throat, and just when Killian was about to diminish any hope of receiving an ounce of warmth, she broke into a wide grin, flashing radiance across the harbour.

"Hi, Jones."

His smile returned. "Hi, Emma."

Taking another step closer, she tilted her head to one side and cracked another brilliant smile. That careful guard was still evident in her shifting feet, but Emma's tone was now relaxed, and dare he say it, a little flirtatious. "It's nice to, well, _officially_ meet you."

"You too."

They looked at one another in quiet solitude then. Killian, pleased to have finally met his Swan, and Emma, quietly testing and breaking the walls she'd known since forever. Both were overwhelmed by the other, but both were also experts at hiding impact. So Emma was unaware of Killian's grin refusing to budge, and Killian was unaware that despite Emma's awful walk-in with Neal, she was in fact, now smiling and happy to see him.

She suddenly held up a hand, fingers dancing close to his chest, and let out a laugh. "Okay, but seriously. What the hell are you doing here?"

He returned the laugh, scratching a hand across the back of his neck. "It's a long story."

Taking a seat on the bench, Emma gave him another once-over, the beaming grin showing no sign of fading. "You have an hour, Jones." She told him cheerfully, before tapping a hand to the empty space beside her. "Make it count."

When Emma's eyes finally met his in an unashamed and slightly bashful connection, another spark danced began to dance inside his chest.

* * *

She couldn't believe it still.

Killian was here. In New York. With no intention of leaving.

_Not yet_.

Pushing aside that small, vulnerable part of her still raw from Neal's reappearance, Emma focused on the handsome man beside her. Someone who was willing to fly across states to simply spend a little time with her. The attraction was mutual, that was clear. However there was a deeper element that both couldn't quite decipher. Emma put it down to the surprise. She'd not expected to see Killian, and blamed chemistry for those damn flutters residing in her stomach.

"So, last week, the band and I received incredible news." He began. He glanced over at her, and they were sitting so closely that his shoulder brushed her jacket. "Do you remember I told you we're finishing up the album on a tight schedule?"

Emma nodded. His manner of speech was even more delightful in person. Killian's accent lilted certain words, and there was clear musicality in the dips and low tones. As it had done during phone calls, it spread shiver and dancing sparks along Emma's arms underneath the jacket.

"Well, there's a reason why we're rushed. You see, my dear, Swan,"

She rolled her eyes when he folded one leg over the other and threw an arm around the back of the bench. For all his casual flirtatious nature, Killian was charming, and Emma knew better than to let him in on the secret of her enjoyment in the first ten minutes of meeting. However, her body had others ideas and she leaned a little closer.

"Well, we've been signed!"

"What? Killian, that's amazing!" Without considering quite what she was doing, Emma reached for Killian and pulled him into a hug, surprising not only him, but herself too. The soft material of his shirt felt cool against Emma's fingertips, and she closed her eyes when Killian's hands encircled her waist, pulling her closer. Whatever deodorant he wore prickled her nose with a distant tropical scent. It felt warm and homely, and Emma felt both frightened and surprised by the desire to stay wrapped in Killian's arms.

"Thank you." He murmured against the collar of Emma's jacket, his lips brushing the base of her neck; a cool whisper of air escaping over the bare skin.

Emma pulled back before she shivered again, remembering it was broad daylight and ridding any thoughts of where else Killian's lips could be, and where they could brush and dance across. Her stomach, neck, _making a slow trail down her inner thighs and-_

"Congratulations, I mean." She said quickly, praying Killian put the rosy hue in her cheeks down to the sun's heat. "How, uh, how did it happen?"

His hand hovered against the base of her back, before resting on the bench again. Emma bit back a disappointed scowl of a child.

"Well, it's an independent Irish label. Rubyworks Records. They merged with a UK label, Ark Recording, earlier this year. Anyway, the label has been looking for new artists and bands to sign, and we were selected to open for the joints tour of Little Green Cars and Kodaline." His grin widened in happy pride, and she couldn't help but watch him in awe.

"We'll be touring around Ireland and the UK so it's a fantastic opportunity." He continued. "Especially for a first offer. We're bloody lucky."

It sounded professional and well-deserved, and a bolt of pride danced through Emma, tugging her lips into a warm smile. "When does it start? The tour, I mean."

Killian grimaced. "See, this is where the hectic nature comes in. Six weeks. Hence the busy schedule, and the need to finish the album as soon as possible. We needed to finish the album, get it out on the market and start with a few promotional gigs and festivals spots, perhaps..."

His voice faded away, along with Emma's smile.

_Six weeks._

_Six. Weeks._

This was why he'd been too busy to call or write.

Emma was pleased, or at least, tried desperately hard to be, but her thoughts were lost elsewhere. Lost in abandonment.

She knew how tours went. Groupies, hundreds of women, backstage parties and alcohol, and an air of losing yourself in the music and lust...

_You'll forget all about me._

Just like everyone else, Killian was going to leave.

_Am I really not worthy to fight for?_

_I guess not._

A pit of gnawing bitterness pricked Emma's walls, poking holes in the guards with bitter glee. She cursed herself for thinking Killian would be any different. Why was this lesson so hard for her to learn? Clearly, she was in over her head again. If seeing Neal had been a reminder of the lack of love she had been offered in life, Killian was a second chance she'd never even have the chance to take. A reminder to remain closed off and happy in a protective loneliness.

Killian would pull away, and Emma would be left with another scar.

_I thought you were different, _she thought miserably.

Once again, she had taken a leap of faith only to find no one waiting at the bottom to catch her.

This had Neal written all over again.

_And after the tour, he'll still be busy_.

Judging by the handful of songs Emma had heard the band play, she knew they'd be snapped up for another tour, or festival, or second album. Her throat felt numb, growing thicker and tighter, eyes blurring as tears formed in her eyes. They felt heavy, as though ready to release whatever parts of her soul she'd reserved for Killian, now losing hope, they were about to seep out forever, with no hope of returning-

"Swan?"

Killian's hand touched the back of Emma's hand, gently, yet she jumped, startled away from a swirl of thoughts.

_Have hope. Hold onto hope,_ a tiny part of her sung.

If Killian noticed the welling of tears, he remained, thankfully, quiet, but didn't look away. He offered a small smile, his hand remaining over hers, tracing soft circles around the skin. It was soothing and almost a natural gesture, as though they'd greeted each other this way for years.

"I wanted to spend time with you." He said quietly. "Before the tour starts." As though reading her mind and worries, Killian thread this fingers through hers, and when Emma didn't pull away, Killian lifted her hands up to his lips and brushed his lips across the bare skin. The gesture was old-fashioned, yet perfectly suited to Killian's expression of tenderness.

_Perhaps...this could work._

His gaze pierced her own so intensely, Emma couldn't pull away this time. "Don't fret, Swan. I promise to write and call as often as I can. I give you my word. Trust me. But...my flight is booked for tomorrow morning, so we do only have the day together, uninterrupted."

"Pure unadulterated fun." Killian then winked and wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, and brought her hands back up to his lips; not quite touching, but hovering with painful anticipation. "Unless you have another kind of fun planned?"

Tongue tracing her lower lip, Emma cursed the attraction she felt towards Killian. It was magnetic, intense and blossoming with every passing moment; leaving Emma in a state of affected haze. She was certain Killian felt it too, however covered it with a playful nudge, or a wicked grin, whereas all she managed was a quiet sigh, or a shake of her head.

Fun with Killian Jones. Emma only imaged the types of fun they could get up to within one day. _And night_, a low husky voice that _damn it,_ was _definitely_ not hers, promoted with a seductive ring.

After the moment passed, the reminder of his tour overtook her delight, and pins and needles designated to sharp pain wove into Emma like a voodoo doll. Hot and cold, flirtatious then distant, she wondered why the hell Killian was still attempting to spend time with her. She wasn't worth the trouble. Or the hassle.

_Perhaps the walls ought to stay up…_

Her voice returned to its flat tone. "Can you...could you, change your flight?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

Eyes closing as pain flooded tears into her eyes, Emma stared out into the harbour, savouring the low breeze.

_No_.

"I don't know." She lied, glancing back to the ocean. A wave crashed in, and she almost flinched at the harshness of the sea. The usual calmness that washed over her simply wasn't there today. "I'm not in the mood, Killian. And if it's good company you're after, you might as well leave now. Sorry."

_You can leave. I'll understand. Just go._

Killian surprised her, as always, by remaining still. He shifted, shoulder and anxious eyes angled towards her. "What happened?" He asked quietly, and Emma flinched again, not because he had spoken, but because he hadn't shifted away. In fact, Killian was closer, his breath against her ear, and his worried gaze fixed on hers. If anything, he seemed…interested.

Sensing Emma's uncertainty, Killian smiled encouragingly. "Talk to me, love. I'm here to spend time with you. Get to know you. Whatever it is, whatever has happened, I promise, I'll listen without judgement." He shrugged, tilting his head to one side with a brief, but open chuckle, and the sound settled her walls into a lower formation. "Or at least, try to." He nodded again, and his smile felt promising. "Try me."

_Why the hell not?_

She shifted, glancing away with a sigh, before starting, "You'll…never guess who I bumped into."

Killian barely hesitated. "Neal."

_Open book._

At his name, the gates seemed to crash open with violent confession. All Emma could do was nod as larger tears pricked and welled inside her eyes as a noticeable tremble worked its way through her insides, twisting and taunting. "He's married, with a kid on the way," She whispered, voice strained in pain. ", and I've been...damn it," Her hands tightened into fists. "I've been _waiting for him_."

And there it was.

Truth finally out, Emma let out a shaky breath and dug her nails sharply into the trembling palms of her clammy hands. Whilst the enlightenment only brought further pain, it reminded her of an old saying.

_Only the truth can set you free._

A lonely tear betrayed her, but before Emma could angrily wipe it away, Killian's hand hovered nearby. He carefully brushed it away, and his hand lingered for a moment, brushing her cheek with a gentle, tender touch.

Ruby and Mary-Margaret were the only two people who'd seen Emma this vulnerable before. No man had ever been close enough to her. It felt...strange, but welcoming.

"I thought I was over it."

"Perhaps you are."

Emma frowned.

"Talking freely is the first step to moving on." Killian explained quietly, but surely. "With Liam, I blocked everything out. Relatives, friends, everyone. Denying help was my expertise. After a while, it gets easier, little by little, and one day, it suddenly rushes back as though it only happened yesterday. Meeting Neal again could be the trigger you need to move on. After all, Emma," His voice was low and honest, and Emma clung to its sincerity as his lips tugged into a small smile that melted away some of the anger. "You deserve more."

"Do I?" She asked softly.

"Aye. You do."

"Right now, I just feel like crawling under the covers for the rest of the week."

"Well then. Not without me, I hope?"

Despite everything, Emma let out a bubble of laughter, the small smile acting as a bridge to a happier and warmer side of life. "In your dreams." She teased.

"Oh, indeed."

Emma swallowed, once again enthralled by suggestive thoughts that were far too indecent for just after noon. She directed the conversation elsewhere with a dry, "You sure wasted a lot of money coming over here."

He frowned at that. "I don't consider it a waste. I met you. That's more than enough for me."

_Damn, you're smooth._

Killian's smile was honest, and yes, somewhat cheesy, but Emma returned it until her lips felt permanently pulled into a grin. "Really?" She asked.

He leant in, lips grazing the tip of her ear, and her eyes closed at the intimate touch.

"Really."

The words brushed against her ear, leaving Emma's hands clutching his forearm. He smirked, and she cursed the bastard for his charm.

_Must be an Irish-born perk._

Killian pulled back, but the ways his blue eyes darted over her face, resting a little too long on Emma's lips with yearning eyes, Emma was satisfied she wasn't the only one affected. Then he grinned, shrugged once and continued with a, "Besides, I'm a rock star now. Wasting money is a perk of the job."

"Uh huh."

"That was a jibe, Swan." He quickly added.

"I know."

There was a pause, and she looked down, enjoying the quiet intimacy without any need for words. The worries of 'what next' were banished, if only for a day, or a night, but Killian's presence here and now was important enough to disregard any thought that may dampen the mood. Emma wrapped Neal and troubling future worries inside a guarded box and shoved it down.

_I'll deal with it later._

Killian suddenly clambered to his feet, spinning around to face her as though a street performer asking for a waltz.

"Now, come on, Swan, how are we going to spend our day?"

His question was simple enough, but the clear level of respect only increased the attraction Emma felt towards Killian. "You're the expert. Lead me on a grand expedition of New York. Show me everything." He encouraged, the tip of his tongue poking the corner of his lips as his eyebrow rose again.

_Good god, did that man always look like that?_

_Oh, yes, _Killian's smirk and hooded bright eyes seemed to shine and prompt Emma's own soul to lighten in spirit. She couldn't help it. The smile and mood was infectious.

"Okay." She said finally, slowly taking his offered hand, ignoring how natural it felt to rest there. When she stood, Emma left their hands tangled, and Killian stared down, as did she, before they let go. Emma felt lost for a moment, tempted to draw their hands back together, but then Killian raised an eyebrow and smirked, turning to walk along the pier.

"That easy? What happened to kicking me onto the next plane?"

"I said okay." She repeated firmly, hiding a growing smirk. "Don't make me regret it, Jones."

"Apologies, mi 'lady."

Suddenly, Emma groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead in remembrance. "I can't. I have to be back at the station in...hell, twenty minutes." She shot Killian an apologetic look. "Can we make plans for dinner later tonight?"

He looked crestfallen, offering a wounded animal expression that made Emma laugh. "But what am I supposed to do without you, Emma?"

She shrugged. "Think of all the wonderful activities we can do later."

_Do not raise that damn eyebrow again, Jones._

He did, and stepped forwards as their bodies angled towards one another, dancing around in mutual harmony. Her husky voice had nothing to do with an intense desire to the way his eyes flickered across her skin like melted honey, warm and heated.

""You continue to wound me, Emma." Killian murmured after a moment, trailing a finger against her chin.

She swallowed down the husky tone. "I'm sure your ego can handle it." She said dryly, closing a hand around he forearm and forcing her gaze upwards, challenging Killian to look away first. "Besides," She smirked. "There's such a thing as too eager, remember?"

His eyebrow rose, as did his lips and Emma sub-consciously ran a tongue against her lower lip. Whether it was the beating sun, the positive joy pushing aside the stabs of pain, Emma clung to the cheerful, flirtatious nature of events and was no longer afraid of a little risk.

Raising her chin confidently, her voice still quivered a little when she asked, "You're not leaving then?"

Killian seemed to understand the grand scale of meaning behind Emma's words, and shook his head softly, dark hair falling in-front of his eyes. Emma pushed it back, and found her arms winding around the back of his neck, as though they weren't close enough already. She needed more. Closeness, intimacy, a shared dance of emotion.

Their eyes met again, and Killian's hand under her chin tickled with feather-light touch as he brushed his thumb in a loose circle over her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Emma. I promise."

His words were spoken with such tenderness, that tears stung Emma's eyes again.

_Let him in_, she thought desperately. _He wants to fight for you, can't you see? Damn Neal, and every foster home and bitter kid or carer who claimed you were not worth it, and look at this damn man. Killian Jones. He wants you. You want him. Make it work. At least try._

"I'll see you later then?" She said quietly.

"As you wish."

* * *

**I enjoyed writing this. A little fluff, angst and...lust.**

**(C****ome on, it's Killian and Emma. They practically invented lust.)**

**P.S. Did ****you really expect I would go through an entire fic without including an 'as you wish?'.**

**Me neither. **

**Drop a review if you can :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yikes, longest chapter yet. **

**I hope you like part 2 of Emma and Killian's New York Adventures!**

* * *

"Hey, do you have case files from a couple of weeks back?"

"Sure...you know I do."

Emma looked confused for a moment, eyeing Ruby suspiciously as she leaned in over the desk. A restless edge was woven into her friend that worried Emma.

"Could you get me a copy of Robert Henderson's arrest sheet?" Ruby asked. "Court needs it for the trial tomorrow afternoon."

"You could've asked Graham. He has all the hard copies."

"Oh, really?"

Toying with a strand of hair, Ruby tried her best, and failed, to appear clueless. Her angelic mask was threatened by the small smirk pulling at her red lips.

A hint of annoyance worked its way into Emma, and she folded her arms over her chest. "Uh huh." She said dryly. Sensing Ruby wasn't cracking just yet, Emma leaned forwards and lightly poked a now-grinning Ruby in the ribs.

"Fess up. What are you snooping into?"

She dropped the innocent act in a split second.

"Fine, I'm snooping into you." Ruby wiggled an eyebrow. With no care for subtly, she quickly moved closer and pushed a desk divider aside to take the spare seat opposite Emma's desk. She then crossed her legs, showing off lean muscle beneath sheer tights, and greeted Emma with a forthright look that could only spell trouble. "I came over to find out if you enjoyed your Irish surprise awaiting you this morning?"

Emma, too surprised to scold Ruby's shameful ways, allowed her eyes to widen in confusion. "You knew?" She accused.

"Come on, now. Why do you think Graham let you off the hook so easily?"

"_Graham_ knew?"

Ruby winced. "Oh, hon, nearly everyone in the office knew."

"Great."

"Isn't it just?" Another voice added cheerfully. Mary-Margaret popped around the desk, with Belle following a few steps behind, and quickly joined the other two women armed with two coffee mugs and guilty looks.

Emma groaned. "You knew? Both of you knew, and you kept it hidden?" She was frustrated now. How the hell had she been so clueless to their sly grins and purposeful encouragement earlier on?

_Wait_.

Earlier, hadn't Mary-Margaret said, '_Say hello to Killian for us'._

_Damn it._

The evidence was piling up now, and Emma hid the urge to groan again.

"Blame Ruby. She has a big mouth."

"It has its perks."

Belle let out a quiet giggle. "Gross."

Turning away from Ruby, who was only half now fighting back a smug grin, Emma continued to listen carefully to her roommate as she searched for the disregarded file.

"Look, Killian phoned a few nights ago and said he was coming over. Told me to keep it a secret. I simply gave him a hotel recommendation or two, told him where to find you at the harbour, and let him go his merry way. Thank god you actually went there. Otherwise, awkward."

"Right."

"So, are you seeing Killian later?"

"Ruby!" Mary-Margaret gasped. She slapped a hand across Ruby's shoulder but the gesture was carefree and playful, more of a friendly warning than a definite hit. "Leave it alone."

"We may be having dinner-"

"But-"

Emma shook her head firmly, still digging around in the archives for the required case file. "Uh uh. Just dinner, that's all we've arranged."

A pregnant paused lingered, and when she finally dug out the file and triumphantly handed it to Ruby, Emma noticed the strange look on her friend's face. Somewhat torn between secrecy and glee, Ruby's smile was vacant, but the usual glint in her eyes sparkled. It did little to soothe Emma's worries.

"What now?" Emma muttered.

She shot Mary-Margaret and Belle another accusing look, to which both women held up their hands in surrender.

"I know nothing." Belle's grin wavered. She tossed Emma an apologetic look. Definitely a previous victim of Ruby's meddling, Belle had been on many double dates and late night parties all in the name of friendship, and she sympathized greatly with Emma's uncertainty.

Mary-Margaret also looked clueless. "Same here, my dear." She sighed. "If I knew what the she-devil was planning, I'd let you know in an instant."

"She-devil." Ignoring the frustrated looks from the others, Ruby tapped a finger against her lips in thought. "I like that."

"I'll have business cards printed immediately." Emma scowled.

She was in no mood for games, or whatever Ruby was hinting at in an unsubtle manner.

"Eh." The game was left undecided as Ruby quickly took the file from Emma, with the vague look of someone clearly distracted by matters elsewhere. "You'll see...or not."

Waving goodbye, she threw a happy grin over her shoulder that Emma felt compelled to return. No matter what Ruby planned, or schemed and smirked over, she was carefree and a delight to be around. Right now, Emma accepted all and any support offered with quiet gratitude. Ruby had been a friend for years, and was practically a sister by now. And as she'd had so helpfully reminded Emma, she hadn't dated in forever, and perhaps a relative expert on that field ought to be a perk that Emma should risk listening to.

Even if it came gift-wrapped in smirks and secretive looks.

Ruby's smile grew genuine as she waved farewell. "Walk out with me after work?"

"Sure."

"Good." Turning to leave, Ruby called out, ", because I have a drop dead gorgeous outfit planned for you..."

_Hell._

* * *

"See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, guys."

"And Emma, best of luck tonight! Let us know how it goes."

Tugging the lapels of her red coat tighter, Emma threw a little wave towards Belle and Mary-Margaret as they rounded the opposite corner, heading off homeward bound.

"Thanks, will do." She called. "Have a good night."

Swiping their I.D cards to log their exit from the station, Ruby and Emma layered up against the late afternoon. They paused for a moment, as always, to gather their items from the foyer lockers. Whilst Emma was occupied burying a half-completed file into the depths of her locker - she really needed to sort out her items sooner or later - Ruby nudged her and nodded outside.

"Speaking of…"

_Oh_.

Leaning against the wall like some goddamn male model, Killian stood, casually waiting outside, as though it were the most natural fashion to be propped up against a police station with dark, messy hair that deserved to be tugged on, and-

"Emma,"

Ruby dug her elbow into Emma's ribs again, and she jumped with a start. A sharp pain spread as she bit her lip.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to this _deliciously_ fine specimen?"

_This is so not going to end well._

"Shh,"

Aware of the slim distance between them, Emma tore her anxieties away from Ruby's little snipes and teases, and smiled at Killian, hoping it seemed welcoming and not surprised. His arrival was a shock, but a hopeful shock to the system. He had this wonderful habit of showing up uninvited. Besides, Emma was always unable to deny Killian a smile.

"I think this is considered stalking, Jones."

His answering chuckle was friendly. "Apologies," He grinned, though he looked about as far from apologetic as one can be standing outside a police station.

"How did you find me?"

Killian's side glance betrayed him. He glanced over at Ruby, and the pair shared a guilty grin. "I shall have to pass the blame to this lovely lass over here."

"You told him?"

"Maybe."

Ruby looked even the less apologetic. She shrugged, ignoring Emma's incredulous look, and offered Killian a hand to shake. Whilst she did so, Ruby shamelessly appreciated every inch of him, head to toe, before warmly returning Killian's smile. "It's a pleasure to meet my partner in crime in person."

He shook her hand. "Ruby, I assume?"

"You assume correctly, Killian. My, my, you're even more handsome in person."

_Quit flirting_.

Emma quickly denied the jealousy streak flickering over her.

Yet it made itself known quite clearly.

A bitter taste in the back of her mouth flamed as Ruby and Killian chatted for a few moments. She knew, of course, that Ruby was being friendly and Killian, simply returning the friendly discourse, but it did little to sooth the darts of scarlet and red flashing across Emma's vision. Tiny sparks caused her nails to grip into her clammy palms.

"Well, it's been great to finally meet you. I'll leave you two kids alone. See you back at ours in a bit?"

Ruby didn't give her a moment to reply. She merrily shot Emma the thumbs up and threw a tie-dye red and orange scarf over her shoulders. "Great." She winked at Emma, blatantly aware of Killian's eyes on the pair, and breezed on, "Au reviour, my darlings."

By now, the breeze had died down to a low, mellow whisper, and Emma unbuttoned her coat with shaky fingers, refusing to meet Killian's gaze until they'd stilled.

She looked up and quickly took a moment to appreciate him in all his tall, dark and _far too handsome_ glory. Still dressed in the outfit he'd worn earlier, Killian had layered up with a black leather jacket, and the addition defined his muscular top form as well as adding an edgy, rocker vibe that had Emma wetting her lower lip with a swipe of a tongue.

Upon reflection, she denied any attraction, of course.

When he finally spoke, Killian had moved closer, legs almost touching, and addressed her in his usual low tone, "So,"

"So."

"It would seem that your charming devil has seemed to plant our date right under our noses."

Emma raised an eyebrow. After all, what more could Ruby have possibly done now?

Tiny puffs of white air escaped Killian's lips as he spoke, and created small shapes and swirls around the pair, as though they were entirely surrounded and isolated in their own little world. His lips pulled into a bemused smile as he took notice of Emma's confused look. He began to explain, "The hotel that Ruby directed me towards, Bryant Park-"

"Are you kidding me?!" Emma cut off sharply. "She directed you there?"

_We are so having words._

"It's comfortable."

_Good, it should be. For $300 per night, it should damn well include butler service and free trips to the moon!_

Emma scoffed. "That's putting it mildly."

"Right. Well, uh..."

After a pause, Killian scratched the back of his neck as he removed a piece of small card from the back of his trouser pocket. The nervous gesture was rather adorable, and Emma tilted her head. She watched in amusement as he, an incredibly handsome and self-assured grown man, quite literally shuffled like a schoolboy.

"Anyway, the hotel is holding a dinner and dance, and I was, well, I was hoping it'd be a nice place to go for tonight…?"

Killian's words hung anxiously in the air, dancing and dipping alongside the white, whispered air. He held the card invitation out towards her with uncertainty flickering in his blue eyes. After a moment, Killian scratched, this time, the back of his left ear, which caused Emma to groan inwardly.

_Definitely far too adorable for a grown man._

She was tempted to make a teasing remark about his nerves. However, at the same moment Emma took the handed invite, she grew suddenly aware of her own heartbeat pounding away like a broken machine. The rather irregular heartbeat pounded against her rib cage. Surprisingly, after that, Emma's quip froze on her lips.

Something in Killian's body language mirrored her own. The clammy palms, and the rounded shoulders waiting to rise with joy. They were all gestures Emma knew too well. The anticipation was cheerful, however, at least on her part.

Emma's reply was almost instant. "Sounds great."

She praised the way her voice sounded calm. Slightly raised in pitch, but surely Killian couldn't notice the nervous catch. "Fancy, but great. Dress code?"

Killian's head shot up, and it took all Emma's resolve not to close the distance completely and draw his head down to hers and kiss him with a growing, and burning, desperation; to test the electricity blossoming between them. She wasn't to blame though. Killian's grin, gestures, and _well, basically, everything_, were far too alluring and seductive to be legal.

"Expensive."

She caught Killian's half-smile, half grimace – with a crinkled temple, but a little smile - and let out a laugh.

"As I feared. I wonder if I can find a dress worthy of such class on such a short notice."

"Swan, I suspect you'd look exceptional in a rag."

Her reply had been a quip, but Killian's expression was so serious and unashamed that Emma couldn't argue. Except with a light flush echoing her pleasure. Now it was her turn to shuffle a little as she avoided meeting his gaze, which was no doubt, triumphant.

"Meet you there?" She asked quietly.

"How about I pick you up, say…seven?"

"I can't remember giving out my address, Jones."

Once again, the roles were reserved as Killian sheepishly held up a small piece of paper. "Ruby slipped me this before."

_Damn minx._

"She's far too good." Emma mumbled, and then pulling her attention back to a pleased Killian, she tilted her head again and smiled, "Fine. 7 it is. See you then."

Killian raised her hand to his lips.

The exact moment they brushed against the back of her hand, Emma felt that rushing urge to draw Killian closer and closer. The intimacy of the gentle moment also startled Emma. Eye contact used to seem awkward and uncomfortably personal, but Killian's sure gaze on hers was sparking sensations and thoughts that Emma hadn't known she'd had the chance to feel.

"Until 7, my love." Killian said lowly, lips moving against her hand.

He then pulled away with another wide grin that caused Emma to shake her head and flush all over again.

Watching Killian disappear down the road, Emma was positively certain she was, now, way in over her head. Any desire to run was overruled. Even her walls seemed to protest little. She stared down at the pale blue dinner invitation for a moment, waiting for the sense of normalcy to return. The dream-like sensation was still woven into the night like a fairy-tale.

_A dinner-dance date. Talk about a fairy-tale. _

Suddenly, Emma's grin faded into a panicked groan as she noted the dress code.

_Dress._

_I don't have-_

Unfortunately, Emma was certain she knew at least one person who was close enough to ask for a dress to borrow...

"Damn it."

Shame about her pride.

* * *

"God give me strength." Emma muttered half an hour later.

Firmly wedged between the privacy of her room, and Ruby's desperate pleas for her to _just get her ass out here already_, Emma felt her arms close over her chest protectively.

It was useless. The dress left little to the imagination as it was already. Trust Ruby to encourage this choice. With a curve-hugging empire dress, the borrowed outfit - dazzling bright red in colour - was fitted with a charming V-neck; softly flowing out at the waist into a floor-length skirt. Simplistic, but gorgeous, Emma couldn't deny the flattering perks of the dress. Whether it was first date material was the question buzzing through her mind.

"I asked for an evening dress, Ruby." She shouted through the door, wincing. Even the simplest movement amplified her curves. "This is a super snazzy hotel, not a prostitution gathering."

"Come out. Let me have a look at you! Then you can keep yelling at me."

"No."

"_Please_." Ruby begged. Upon hearing silence in return, Ruby tried again, more firmly this time. "Fine then. How about I refuse to let you try on another dress until you give me an excuse not to wear that one? Exactly. I win. Come on out, gorgeous."

"Fine, but then I'm changing." Relapsing with one final sigh, Emma unlocked her bedroom door.

She stepped out into the living room and was greeted with a stunned Ruby staring at her with an open mouth. A few moments passed and a flattered smile overcame Emma's thin-set lips. Whether her friend was being ridiculous or genuine, it was still hard not to smile. Unfolding her arms in defeat, Emma relaxed and waved a hand in-front of her roommate's gaze. "Hello? Earth to Ruby."

The other woman let out a sly wolf-whistle. "Holy shit. I knew you had a hot bod hidden under those jackets." Ruby nodded approvingly. She clapped her hands together in a rather cute victory dance that almost, but not quite, made the low-cut dress forgivable. "Way to go, Emma."

Tugging at said dress, Emma pulled at the sides with careful fingertips. She was usually confident wearing tight, revealing or risqué clothing, but this dress was something else entirely.

_It's too A-list celebrity, red carpet_, she thought anxiously. _Talk about trying too hard._

"But, it's so..."

"Ravishing? Sexy? Hot?"

"Revealing." Emma finished. She paid no attention to Ruby's waggling eyebrows and continued to toy with the waistline. If a flaw was found, her argument would be a whole lot easier. Without one, it would be difficult to deny Ruby's persistence.

"Oh, hush, and quit fidgeting." Ruby laughed then, and began to manoeuvre the dress, adjusting the V-neck by pulling the knot tighter to cover a little more skin. She then took a step back to admire her handiwork. "There you go." She beamed. "Minimal cleavage."

"I can still see them."

"What are you, five? You have amazing boobs. Use them, for god's sake. Killian will be a simpering puppet in your hands."

Emma felt an eyebrow quirk up again. "Seriously? Boobs? Who's the child now?"

"Boobs, breasts, tits, gorgeous round orbs." Ruby clicked her tongue against her teeth in frustration. "Whatever you call them, Emma, you have them, so in the great name of love, use them!"

She winced when she caught sight of her image in the floor length mirror. It was all a little too much. Truthfully, Emma felt confident and rather hopeful for the evening, but considering the lack of respect others treated men and women daily, the inner cynic in her began to freak.

"I would like him to address my face, not...this..."

"Trust me," Ruby cut her off again, her tone and smile reassuring as she touched a gentle hand against Emma's shoulder.

"If Killian is half the gentleman he claims to be, he'll respect you." She turned her towards the mirror fully and Emma captured Ruby's supportive grin behind her before her friend continued, "He'll take a peak, but hell, so did I. And I'm firmly on the road to Straightville."

"You sure?"

"I have my exceptions."

At that, both women cracked into a fit of laughter, and when they were finished, Emma took another look in the mirror and pulled a little straighter.

"Fine, you win." She surrendered, and was immediately greeted with a squeal and an attack hug from Ruby.

"Thank the lord."

_Di__ng__._

Before Emma could make a quipping remark, the doorbell announced Killian's presence with one precise, clear bell. She pulled away from Ruby. Sudden anxiety began returning in the back of her throat, and it shot through her already weak legs, numbing them to stillness. It then quickly travelled across any bare skin available, tingling her feet and numbing her fingertips.

"Hey, relax." Ruby comforted. "You'll have a great time, Emma, I'm sure," She grabbed her coat and Emma took it gratefully; shrugging it on in what was definitely a record speed. The anxieties continued to bubble and dance away, ", and just call me if you need anything at all, okay?"

Ruby's smile was so supportive and encouraging that Emma felt close to tears. She slipped her friend into another one-armed hug before rushing off to the door, becoming more and more aware that Killian may assume she'd cancelled or even worse, completely forgotten.

"See you later! And thank you! Ruby, really. You're a life saver."

"Thank me later."

Emma rolled her eyes. "We're dining." She reminded Ruby, preparing for another saucy remark.

"And after?"

"Dancing."

"Oh, " Ruby, who had begun filling a glass at the kitchen, turned back, grinned, and raised her drink in salute. ", that's what they're calling it these days. _Dancing_."

_And there it is._

"I already regret thanking you." Emma retorted, but the usual playfulness was relaxing.

Giving herself a brief once-over, she tamed a flick of wild, blonde hair over her shoulder, smoothing out her coat, and finally, opening the door to receive Killian.

As soon as the door swung open, he lit up. That was the truth. In fact, the only accurate comparison would be to a flickering candle. One assumes it has burned out, but then the flame flickers, dancing between light and dark, before returning with a light stronger than before, and Killian's eyes brightened the room completely.

"Emma."

She'd felt under a spotlight before, but the way Killian looked at her was beyond flattering. As though she were another candle with a light even brighter and more radiant than his own. A fellow, kindred spark. Strong individually, but even more so together.

He spoke her name and thrilled sparks began to twist and turn into a fully grown fire. Everything was heated in that moment, and Emma could feel the smile growing wider; lifting every anxiety and worry away as though they were tiny paper lanterns. They seemed light and irrelevant now, in the way of a burning sunset that was Killian's presence in, not just tonight, but in her life. To think she'd known him a few months seemed surreal. It seemed longer, a life-time too short even.

"Jones."

"Ready?"

She mastered the art of hiding the heart's reaction, but keeping her smile warm, Emma took his offered arm with a quiet, "Let's go."

* * *

If he thought she looked beautiful before, when they arrived at the hotel's set-up restaurant for the evening and Emma stripped of her coat, Killian had to fight back speechlessness for the first time in his busy life. He hid the slacked jaw and glazed over eyes by removing his own coat, fumbling to move across the table and pull out her chair. He managed to still steal a glance every moment that he could.

It was now a known fact.

Emma Swan was a vision in red.

The dress, and she, were, putting it simply, criminally stunning. Simple and elegant was underrated these days, but Emma wore the floor-length gown with a vintage style of class and confidence. Killian found it a challenge to tear his gaze away from the pinched waist and the long legs peeking out in the material's careful slit. However, once he caught her expression, so at peace and lost in her own mirrored moment, Killian found it hard to simply look away from Emma.

"Thank you." She said quietly. Taking the seat he'd quickly pulled out, and beginning to flick through the menu, she covered her flushed cheeks with the top of the card.

Wondering how his good fortunes had led him here, Killian smiled. "Pleasure."

* * *

They discussed the menu for a minute or two until a young, light-haired waiter came by and greeted them. Killian pointedly glared at the man when he lingered on Emma's chest a moment too long until the man stammered and looked away. The pair then ordered drinks - Killian, a cider, and Emma, a glass of Italian red wine - before they ordered starters and mains and were then left alone again.

A few moments were filled with exchanged looks that could only be described as somewhere between heated and shy.

Killian cleared his throat. "May I ask you something, Swan?"

His tone was serious, and Emma tilted her head at him, swirling a finger around the rim of her glass.

"You may." She said coyly.

"Do you ever wonder about your parents? Where they are, where they live now. Have you ever considered wanting to track them down? I'm certain you have many questions you want answered."

The subject was rather abrupt, but Emma felt oddly comfortable with it and shrugged. "I have. A lot, actually." She admitted, slowly tracing the glass rim. "It was an open adoption as well, so they'd be rather easy to find. I suppose...I've not given it much thought."

"Any idea what it is that's holding you back?"

"My family. I mean, obviously not my biological family, but...I already have a family now. Ruby, Belle, Mary-Margaret..."

_You_.

Emma frowned at the sudden thought and rushed on. "I just don't see what use it would do now, you know? What's the point? They gave me up, so I doubt they're too fussed whether or not I show up at their doorstep twenty-eight years later."

Silent for a moment, and considering her words, Killian took a gulp of his drink before settling the glass down and grinning. "What if they were, in fact, FBI agents, and in desperation, gave you up to protect you from the lifestyle?"

"Or they're time-travelers." Emma joined in, playfully leaning forwards over the table and widening her eyes. "On a secret mission from the future."

"I think you're onto something, Swan. So, what happened? Did they accidentally leave you in the past, and now they're secretly growing up beside you?"

"How terribly unprofessional."

Killian threw his head back and laughed, attracting the attention of a handful of giddy young women eyeing him shamefully in-front of their own dates. Hiding her own smile behind her glass, Emma sipped at her wine for a few moments. She stared down at the swirling liquid to gather up the courage for her next words.

"I reckon they were scared." She spoke thoughtfully.

"How so?"

"Perhaps they were too young. Or too old." She carried on, pulled along by a sudden stream of possibilities. "What if they had frowning parents and their social differences destroyed their chance of having a family?"

"Like Romeo and Juliet?" Killian teased.

Emma grimaced, and made a nauseated face into her glass. "God, I hope not. I hated that play at school."

"You too?"

"My soul mate."

Staring at her for a moment in amusement, Killian chuckled, low and happy, before extending his glass towards Emma.

"I'll drink to that." He offered, and she clinked her own glass against his in agreement.

Even the implication of discussing her family so casually with any other person seemed impossible. Then again, as Emma had quickly and happily discovered, discussing anything with Killian was easy. He'd mastered the art of listening, and to someone like Emma, who struggled with trust in relationships, it was a flattering approach in showing interest. Whether it were teasing remarks or serious discussion, Killian made it a hell of a lot easier to talk to him than anyone she'd ever known. Emma felt it only polite to return the interest.

"So, do your family live nearby?"

She instantly winced at the careless phrasing and use of the word family, given Killian's losses, and stumbled to correct herself before causing any damage. "I mean, your parents...do you parents live near to you? In Ireland? Obviously, they're not here with you...right?"

_God, I'm sorry_.

She stared furiously at her wine, urging it to spurt life and leap out and drown her words.

"Aye, they do." Killian replied, showing little sign of being affected by Emma's words other than a confused little head tilt he threw her way. "We grew up in Dublin, but my mother was always fond of the North, especially Belfast."

His voice dropped a notch quieter, and she noticed the distance glaze clouding his bright eyes. "Three months after Liam's accident, my father left us, and so we then moved up to Belfast for a few years. God knows where he is now. Turns out my father found his solution to pain inside a whiskey bottle, whereas I found mine in a guitar."

"Healthier."

Killian returned her comment with a small smile. "I thought so too."

"And that was it? You never heard from our father again?"

"Not once. I, well, I done many things I regret after Liam's death. I lashed out at a lot of people who cared about me. My mother and father included."

Emma hadn't realised she'd reached out until she felt his hand slip into hers across the table, and she traced small circles against his knuckles, hoping to express the support she couldn't verbalize.

He smiled, carrying on with their hands entwined.

"Sooner or later, I realised it wasn't just me grieving. My mother saw through whatever childish facade I threw in her face over and over again, however, my father…was less understanding. Seemed to think I was an insolent brat with no bloody reason to be kicking up a fuss at all. He grew darker after Liam's accident. Never violent or abusive, but there was always that underlining darkness lingering underneath. I was glad when he left, at least for my mother. She deserved more, and when we moved up to Belfast, she welcomed the change, and so did I."

Killian looked up at her, and as his eyes glistened with unshed tears, Emma tightened her grip around his hand, wishing there was something else. Taking a leaf from his own book, she simply listened with, hopefully, an open look of encouragement.

"No one deserves that kind of loneliness, Swan." He said quietly, and the guarded side of Emma began tumbling down. "Having an open heart in this world is the best form of bravery, and after we moved, I vowed to stay open-minded and open-hearted."

He cleared his throat, scratching a hand along his shirtsleeve. "After all, the past can only pain you if you let it."

At that moment, the waiter returned with their orders, and a delicious aroma of spices and herbs relaxed the pair once more. Killian and Emma stared down at their plates in awe, before thanking the waiter.

"Wow." Emma grinned, taking her colourful dish of Chinese curry, noodles and fresh vegetables in with a lick of her lips. "Talk about worth the money."

Killian raised his glass once again. "To new and old families alike."

"And to possible future F.B.I families." Emma returned the gesture with a vibrant, unafraid laugh, and swept up in the moment, even threw a wink in his direction.

He chuckled. "Here here!"

"Cheers."

Attraction blossomed inside her, and Emma raised the cool glass to her flushed cheeks, aggressively ignoring the fluttering movement of eyelashes in the look she'd given Killian. She felt stripped and bare of her walls, and for once, it frightened her no longer. Understanding grew into attraction, which, with the addition of chemistry and attraction, slowly built into something more...

_We're not going there yet. _  
_Not that word._  
_Uh uh._  
_No._

_Not yet._

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you and your partners would now like to move through into the ballroom. We will be starting dances in roughly five minutes time. Thank you for your cooperation."

After the head waiter's announcement, dining couples began to follow each other through the dining area and into the ballroom. It had previously been cut off and covered by a large, green curtain separating the two rooms.

Killian offered Emma his arm again, and she relaxed into the comfort of his hold as they followed the crowd across the floor.

Walking into the room was like entering a fantasy world where kings, queens, knights and kingdoms existed and dined and feasted with royalty.

A classic high-roof structure curved the room into a beautifully wide and welcoming polished floor for dancing. Around the floor, large, white cloth-covered tables were serving champagne and fresh fruit, adorned with the corresponding navy blue and pale gold colour scheme. Large, velvet curtains were half-drawn as half a dozen beaming chandeliers created large patterns along the floor, though Emma's awestruck gaze was quickly drawn to the two winding staircases at the far end. Classical paintings hung on either side of the walls, images of historical figures, picturesque landscapes and even post-modern, abstract art decorated the bare walls with life and colour.

A full band of violins, pianos and singers had gathered on the stage, preparing for their performances with anxious smiles and last-minute checks, and for the moment, Emma could not think of a single word to explain the beauty of the ballroom other than magical.

Killian watched her silent enthrallment with a secret amusement of his own.

"Are you beginning to feel like a princess yet, Swan?"

"Maybe."

She glanced back apprehensively, biting her lip in realising just how openly she'd been staring around the room.

An elder waiter with graying hair and a kind smile greeted them with a tray of drinks balanced in his hands. "Good evening, sir, ma'am, would you care for any champagne?"

Emma nodded. "Please."

After moving further into the room, Killian led Emma to a smaller space in a row of chairs and circular tables. They took seats quickly, watching as the room filled up with friendly conversations and the odd laugh or loud remark within groups. Emma glanced around at the bright lights, classical architecture and then, at the handsome man beside her.

"Jones?" She said quietly, swallowing quickly as Killian instantly turned towards her, pinning Emma down with that wonderfully intense look in his sharp eyes.

"Yes, love?"

"Are you quite certain we're not actually inside a story book right now?"

A tap of a microphone interrupted his reply. "Ladies, and gentlemen. I'd like to take this chance to officially welcome you to the dance this evening. As always, we will open the floor with a classical Viennese waltz. If you will, take your partners for a spin, and have a lovely evening, Enjoy."

_Perfect timing._

"Seriously?"

Emma hid the urge to roll her eyes, assuming it was hardly an appropriate gesture in an expensive ballroom, wearing a gorgeous evening dress in a classy hotel.

"Apparently so." Killian chuckled. "Come on then, Swan." Before Emma had time to think, he quickly stood, straightened his suit in preparation, and offered her a hand with his usual flirtatious grin.

"Let's have a dance."

_Hell_.

"Oh, I...I don't dance. I can't." She stumbled out in a rush. "I mean, I can dance, but not like this. I haven't danced like this before." Gesturing around to the other dancers, who quite clearly were trained and prepared, Emma resisted ducking her head and blushing under the bright lights. "I think it'd be safer if I stay seated."

"Shame." Killian sighed but didn't withdraw his hand. In fact, if at all, he seemed even the more confident she'd accept.

He grinned at her lack of encouragement. "If only your partner knew how to dance..."

She shot him an incredulous look. "Hold on a sec. Killian...are you saying, that you know how to dance the Waltz?" As his smile widened in triumphant, Emma only stared in disbelief. "Properly, I mean?"

"I do indeed."

Realising after a few moments that she needed more than that, Killian sighed, still refusing to lower his hand and explained, "Back at home, my parents were on the local council, which involved all the charity events and so on."

His lips twitched in fond memory. "Liam and I squirmed through a large share of balls and evening dues. So yes," Killian looked back at her and raised an eyebrow, now beginning to tap his foot impatiently as she remained rooted to the seat. "I know how to dance a Waltz at having been forced into hellish dance lessons as a young lad. Trust me, you're in safe hands."

"But, I can't-"

Killian offered a sincere smile, reaching his hand out in one last attempt, the music swelling louder and louder in the background. "Emma, please dance with me."

Lips parting to speak, Emma hesitated for a moment, still uncertain about dancing in front of so many gatherers, but just at that second, an older woman with a cheeky smile, leant in from across the table and waggled an eyebrow at Emma. "If you don't, I will, my dear!"

Emma burst out laughing in delight as Killian gaped at the other woman in surprise. Urged on by a random stranger, she gathered her skirts in one hand and reached for a still frozen Killian's hand.

"In that case-"

As soon as her hand slipped into Killian's hold, Emma knew she'd made the right decision. She threw the elderly woman a bashful grin, who in return, waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive way that reminded her of Ruby, and turned back to sipping her champagne.

Emma nudged Killian gently in the ribs when he still didn't respond. "Star struck are we, Jones?"

His head snapped around, as though only now noticing that she'd stood to dance with him.

"Not at all."

Grinning like a madman, Killian cleared his throat and began to lead Emma onto the floor.

"This way, mi 'lady."

Half a minute later and Killian was laughing at Emma's useless attempts to remain upright in his arms. She grumbled and groaned at her lack of coordinate, cursing parents she'd never met for their ungraceful genes, and muttering something about Irish genes descending from dancing gods.

"Why the hell did I let you talk me into this?"

"Because you like me, Swan."

Emma continued staring down at her heeled shoes with venom.

"Not anymore." She growled.

"Well, then," Killian's reply was teasing as he carried on attempting to direct the clumsy blonde around the room, careful to avoid yet another collision with a younger couple a few feet away. "I shall have to do something about that."

"Uh huh, and pretty damn soon."

"Emma, love, you're making a grand mistake."

"Which is?"

There was a slight pause as the music slowed. Every couple seized dancing as the next track began to start up again, and Killian relaxed his hold around Emma's waist to draw her chin carefully into his hands. He paused, and then quietly said, ""Look at _me_."

She couldn't help but smirk and tease, "Why would I possibly do that?"

The alternative was melting into the heated look that Killian was currently sparking into her.

"You still don't trust me." Killian said. His voice was a little sad, and Emma felt crushed that her lack of faith was distressing the only person who in fact, made her believe.

Just then, the music echoed around the room again, another piano piece beginning to settle into a slow, still Waltz, rhythm. Couples began to weave and dip around the floor. Part of her wanted to surrender and sit back down again, but looking up into Killian's encouraging eyes, Emma felt compelled to take another second chance.

"This time, trust me." Killian spoke softly. He placed his hand back on her waist, fingertips brushing the inch of bare skin, leaving tingled marks that hitched Emma's breath in a tender way. "If it helps at all, think of dance as a life rehearsal."

Her hand found its rightful place on the slight dip in Killian's left forearm, and the firm muscle beneath his dress shirt sent even more sparks inside Emma's stomach. She swallowed away desire for nearly the fifth time that evening, focusing on his words instead.

"How's that?" She asked dryly.

"Don't mock it until you've heard it, love." Killian shook his head and laughed, slowly taking a few steps to test her out again. This time, gaze firmly rooted to his, Emma managed to round a corner without any mishaps.

"Anyway, dancing is, in a way, a rehearsal to the choices you make in life. The music you're dancing to, the style, tempo, crescendo."

Killian flashed a smile as he turned Emma out into a quick spin, careful to direct her under his arm before happily pulling her back into a close embrace. "Did you choose it? And if so, are you pleased with those choices, or do you want to switch to another song and dance?"

Leaning in, Killian's voice was low and alluring, his lips speaking directly and closely into Emma's ear. "You analyse the song, the mood, and who you've chosen to dance alongside." Tiny goose bumps formed over his next words, "Are you happy with your partner? Would you prefer to be alone?"

He exhaled and Emma shivered as his breath came out a soft whisper on the corners of her cheekbones. "Dancing can be fun, upbeat," His hand slowly moved across her back, fingers spreading out to mimic the next words. ", and also intimate and slow, but only with the right partner."

"How do you know?" She asked quietly, fully aware of their close embrace. The deliberate way that Killian's fingers were now brushing her back made it hard to focus. "Who the right partner is?"

His reply was instant and confident. "You know when everything coincides."

He spun her easily around again, this time pulling her backwards against his broad chest. Emma leant back against him as Killian spoke in a whisper low enough for her and her alone. "Heart, mind, soul. Listen to your gut, yes, but, Swan, you'd do wonders to listen to your heart every now and then."

They danced like that for a few more moments, with Emma keeping her grip on his forearm tight, and Killian hovering his lips over the bare skin of Emma's neck, exhaling, every now and then, cool breath against the heated skin. After a long pause, Killian finally spun her back into a usual ballroom hold, and Emma, unable to help it, cracked a smile.

"So, Literature major then, huh, Jones?"

"Also a minor in Irish cinema."

She laughed. "Knew it."

"What gave it away?"

"Somewhere amongst the extended metaphor of dancing."

Killian frowned, but his lips began to pull into a grin as he watched her laugh and smile in a playful mood. "So at the beginning?"

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Hm."

The music began to quieten, and as everyone began to slow into a standing, Killian spun her out one final time and lowered his head to murmur, as though worried he'd panic her, "Emma, I don't mean to frighten you, but...you're dancing, love."

She feigned a gasp. "Well, would you look at that? So I am. Seems all I needed was the right partner after all."

Her voice finished in a husky whisper all on its own. They shared another heated look, one that went beyond dancing, and beyond writing and phone calls and maybes and what next.

_What next?_

_What next. What next..._

It repeated in Emma's mind until Killian faded into a blur of distance.

She stiffened in his arms, almost by an instinct to pull away from intimacy, though when Killian quickly noticed and his proud smile dropped, Emma cursed herself for ruining the moment. It wasn't entirely Emma's fault. Blame the walls and the abandonment issues and everyone who'd ever played a hand in pushing aside dreams of happiness and family and friends and...love.

Suddenly aware of how much wine, and added champagne, she'd drunk that evening, Emma slowly pulled away from Killian's hold, unable to directly meet his gaze, knowing she'd find painfully raw disappointment or sadness in those honest, blue eyes.

"It's getting pretty late. I, uh...I reckon we should go."

"I'll walk you home."

Emma hesitated. On one hand, she wanted to spend as much time humanly possible, but the longer they spent, the harder a goodbye would sound. "Oh, Killian...you don't have to...really."

"I insist."

A small smile tugged at Emma's lips, and despite everything, the fear of losing someone she'd barely had the chance to develop feelings for and every other odd stacked against them, Emma looped an arm through Killian and they left, together.

* * *

"Do you fancy a nightcap?"

_Hell, that sounded suggestive._

"I expect that wouldn't be the wisest of moves, Emma."

"Oh?"

Turning around outside her apartment door, she frowned.

Killian's curt decline had thrown her. Surely the alcohol was now burning a painfully hot trail down her body, but Emma was still confident she could handle a little more. Perhaps the flirtatious tone was down to the wine, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves a little...

Emma blinked a few times, trying to clear the tiny dots forming around her eyes in a hazy blur.

"Will you miss me?" She blurted out.

Clutching the door behind her for support, her knuckles grazed a cool trail along the door knob. Emma met Killian's gaze with a challenge. If the wine coursing through her system was encouraging confidence, she was going to damn well use it.

"Of course I'll miss you." Killian cast his gaze away from her. After a long beat, he then growled in frustration. "Gods. Coming here was a mistake, Emma. A bloody huge mistake."

"What?"

She froze half swaying in the door; eyes widening as she stared at the growing, angry expression on Killian's face.

"I don't understand…"

"I've seen you in person, and now I have to leave."

Killian took a step forwards, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. He spoke softly, but there was a pained anger that lilted his words. "Do you know how hard this is for me, Emma?" He murmured, fingers reaching up to brush her exposed neck. "To be this close to you, and...be gone the following morning. Hell."

He spoke in a broken whisper. "It's hell."

The alcohol burned alongside his anger, toying with Emma's heart and provoking what little resolve she had with an iron hot poker. "Please stop." She implored, finding it difficult in Ignoring the way Killian's soft hands had brushed closer along her neck.

She felt desperate now. "I can't...don't do this. Please."

Lust and an urgent craving to touch and connect and _feel_ dripped from Killian's voice.

"Darling, I'm going to need a better excuse."

Emma grabbed Killian's hand, pressing it closer against her skin to sooth her anguished nerves.

"Whatever I mean to you is going to have to wait." She pleaded.

Noticing the look of surrender in his eyes, Emma shook her head, desperate for Killian to understand. "No. Please, don't for one minute think that I don't care about you, because damn it to hell, Killian, I am roughly five seconds away from moving to another country for you, but I'm not going to. I can't. I'm just not ready."

Emma stilled then, both of them ending up breathless and pressed closely against the door behind her. Ignoring just how close Killian's lips were to hers - so close that she could count the tiny freckles on his upper lip, and the deep red of his lips that seemed so inviting and-

She blinked once, clearing forming tears, and then forced herself to push Killian away, carefully flattening her palms against his chest.

"Sorry, it's getting late, and we've both been drinking and..."

Staring down at the carpeted landing, Emma dropped Killian's hand and watched it linger painfully in the air. "You...should go."

_Stay_.

"You're right. I should."

"Go." She insisted more firmly.

If Killian didn't leave now, then Emma had a strong feeling they'd both end up tangled in a more compromising position before either one had the chance to reconsider. And that couldn't happen. Not tonight, before he had to get on a plane and fly away elsewhere.

Against her protests, Killian stood his ground, his feet planted into the floor as though rooted by a magnetic pull sparking between them. Another pause, and trembling breathes filled the silence, before he took a step forwards. He, slowly this time, tilted Emma's chin up so that she was forced to meet Killian's burning gaze. "One more thing."

_Don't say goodbye. _

_Please...don't. say goodbye._

Silently, Killian gazed down at her with a hooded look, his gaze threatening to swallow her whole in a deliciously wicked manner. His fingers anchored Emma to him. Their eyes now locked their in a heated battle for control, intimacy caved into an entirely new emotion. One filled with a rage and anger at the unfair situation of distance, but also complete with a passion and sense of new love that felt fond and youthful, blossoming and wanting to rediscover light and life.

"My flight goes at one o'clock, but I'll be at the airport from around twelve." Killian said quietly. "Come and find me then and say goodbye, then I'll know."

"Know what?"

Emma could barely hear her own whisper over the sound of a heartbeat leaping into her throat.

"That you're ready."

"Is that a challenge?"

Killian's lips twitched. "A dare."

"If you do, you'll be making me the happiest man on the planet, though if you chose to stay, I'll understand, and..." He spoke with such tenderness that his lips hovered over her own; so close that it was almost a ghost kiss. "It will not let me think any lower of you, Emma. I promise. It's your choice. It always will be, my love."

"And after that? Your tour, and the busy timetable, and..."

"You're worried about _that_?"

He looked surprised when she hid her own tearful look. "Oh, Emma. Trust me; I'd wait forever and a day if I had to."

"Cheesy idiot."

Killian's hand hovered above her upper lip, caressing it from top to bottom in a soft way that had Emma clutching the door for support.

He chuckled, his thumb still brushing over Emma's lip at an unbearably slow pace. "And you're adorably drunk."

"What a pair we make." She said quietly.

"Aye."

Pulling her trembling hand up before their eyes, Killian pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, as he had done outside the station that morning. It seemed so long ago and yet so recently. Time had extended and grown, allowing Emma and Killian their day together in a lengthy period.

"Have a good night, Swan."

Killian dropped her hand carefully, turning away with one final nod, and leaving Emma with not only a growing, gnawing feeling of uncertainty, but also with an overwhelming sense of surety over an emotion she'd failed to identity before that moment. In the moment Killian walked away, she knew it wasn't simply want she was craving.

_Need_.

She _needed_ him.

And that terrified her beyond belief.

Emma placed all her weight against the apartment door and let out a shaky breath, the tension having finally snapped and dissolved into silence. Every inch of her body felt affected by Killian. Parts soared and danced, whereas others teased and giggled and begged for contact. It was a burning desire that wasn't showing signs of slowing down or fading away anytime soon.

She tilted her head against the door and squeezed her eyes closed, certain of one thing.

Tomorrow was going to be another adventure altogether.

* * *

**Whoa. Long chapter alert.**

**Hope you all enjoyed this, it was clearly my favourite chapter to write, and of course…another cliff-hanger… ;)**

**P.S. I couldn't resist the Granny cameo.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** **There'll be a longer note at the bottom, but I wanted to thank you all for your support and encouragement and thank you - sincerely! - From the bottom of my heart. **

**Hope you enjoy the (sort of) ending :)**

* * *

Waking up, Emma was gifted with a cruel reminder to take it easy when gulping down red wine and champagne in the same evening.

An unintelligent groan escaped her lips. _Oh, god._

Perhaps next time it'd be best to avoid any alcohol, whether or not nerves and anxieties urged her otherwise.

Glad that the rising sun was blocked out by navy blinds, Emma stretched as she sat up, a hand reaching across to switch off the blaring alarm. It's painful bleeping served as a memory of one too many glasses of wine.

Relief suddenly washed over her as she noticed a small pill, a glass of water, and a grinning Ruby hovering in the doorway.

Ruby winked.

She nodded to the bedside table with a combination of worried motherly concern, but also a friendly jibe. "You're welcome."

"My hero." Emma mumbled, before quickly gulping down the aspirin with a swig of the drink. The water felt cool and soothing so she took another sip, more slowly this time as not to cause hiccups, and then placed the glass down to throw the covers off, swing her legs out of bed and stumble into the wardrobe.

"Someone had a good night…"

Ruby continued to attempt conversation as Emma hurriedly dressed in a pair of black pants, pale blue jumper and throw on a dark blue jacket with her usual, simple cord necklaces.

Her words prompted many memories simultaneously.

All at once, Killian's bright eyes and teasing grin appeared in every corner of Emma's thoughts. Memories of a clumsy dance, a graceful one, and an almost kiss flickered across her mind in a clear sequence. Unlike the hazy blur she'd woken with, Emma was able to recall their date with deliberate detail of careful touches and an abrupt ending.

A paused ending in a hallway too close to consider home.

Ignoring her roommate's interest, Emma fixed a thin-lipped smile onto her face and brushed past her friend with determination. "And someone else isn't in the mood for a chat."

Right now, all she was in the mood for was caffeine and fresh air.

Ruby followed her into the kitchen, reaching around Emma and holding out a bribe-worthy mug of steaming, fresh coffee that made her mouth water. Her headache faded just at the inviting sight.

Already having dressed in a work-appropriate, yet vividly red and black striped V-neck dress, Ruby's neat red lips pulled into a hopeful smile that was thankfully more concerned than gossipy.

"But…I made coffee…" She protested, as though everything else was self-explanatory.

_Because coffee makes the world go round,_ Emma thought dryly, unable to contain an amused eye roll at Ruby's shameless need to discuss any business that wasn't hers.

"Fine," She surrendered.

Running a mental checklist; _phone, bag, semi-finished case files_, she then turned back to Ruby, half-way out the door already. "But can you walk and talk?"

"Please." Ruby scoffed and followed her out the door, locking up with a little smirk. "Do you _realise_ who you're talking to here?"

* * *

x

"…and then Killian left."

"So that's it?"

"Well, yeah."

"And you didn't go after him?"

The tip of Emma's tongue clicked irritably. "Seriously?"

She busied herself with reaching for two mugs from the station's staff room, filling the kettle and arranging the mugs in a straight line before turning her attention back to Ruby.

Upon Mary-Margaret and Belle's request, they'd arrived at work a little earlier to meet up and chat and Emma now found herself being quizzed on the smallest of details regarding her and Killian's date.

"Sorry,"

Ruby shrugged, exchanging a quick look with Mary-Margaret across the small room. "It's just…never mind."

"No, say it. You think I should've…what? Ran after Killian, threw myself into his arms and begged him to stay with me?"

She knew she was being unfair, and defensive, but folding her arms across her chest, Emma didn't care for tact. It was replaced by a stony gaze and narrowed eyes as she hid her shy uncertainty beneath hostility. "That's not me. Never was, never will be."

"You're not considering it at all then?"

"Sorry?" Emma blinked.

Deciding the best option of feigning ignorance was to at least play the part, she stared blankly. "Considering…?"

Ruby wasn't fooled.

"Oh, cut the crap." She grinned.

Moving aside to take over the coffee duties that Emma had abandoned, she flashed a knowing smirk that forced Emma's act to drop. She ignored Belle's subtle warning look and, filling the mugs as she did so, breezed on, "Killian's offer, or…suggestion. Whatever you're calling it."

Her gaze met Emma's firmly. "Are you considering saying goodbye?"

_Right…that._

_Maybe._

"Of course not."

_Perhaps_.

She accepted the handed mug with a, hopefully, casual shrug, but grew painfully aware that it was anything but. Her words barely convinced Emma's own inner confliction. At the moment, she was battling between an indecisive spirit and a headstrong mind.

A heavy weight hung over Emma's heart that morning, and she was fairly certain it wasn't due to last night's alcohol either.

_Perhaps_.

She shook her head once and added, more firmly, "No."

Mary-Margaret stepped away from where she'd been leaning against the kitchen counter and took her designated mug with quick thanks. Handing the other to Belle, a quiet mood floated across the room as she stood in-front of Emma, waiting for a moment to speak.

Of petite height and gentle features, Mary-Margaret had a paternal instinct that warmed everyone fortunate enough to love her. In that moment, she seemed as wise as an older woman who'd lived life to the fullest and wished only to share her wisdom, and Emma knew better than to shut her friends out with another snide or snippy remark.

She needed this.

Vulnerability.

As well as the courage it took to open up and _be_ vulnerable. After everything, every crappy foster home, every false friend, and all the damn misfortunes thrown her way, Emma was determined to strive for a happy ending at last.

_Haven't I earned it?_

Watching Emma quietly, Mary-Margaret smiled a gentle smile that prompted one of her own. She subtly waved for the other two to quit hovering, and the pair started up a random chat, leaving Mary-Margaret to take over. Belle understood the message loud and cleared, turning to speak with Ruby and they faded away from Emma's worries.

She felt her grip on the coffee mug began to relax a little.

Although knowing it wasn't their intent to do so, she'd felt threatened by the undivided attention of her friends, and Emma treated it as a fearfully honest circle that she'd not quite managed to accept yet.

"It'd be a shame not to, you know,"

Her nails dug into the mug again.

"-Especially given how you feel about him."

_Excuse me?_

Emma froze then.

Granted, Mary-Margaret had spoken with her usual cheerful colour, but as soon as her words were out, they seemed to take form in a life of their own and flutter and dance around Emma in a malicious reminder.

See, it wasn't the idea of love that frightened Emma, nor was it Killian who scared her, but that vulnerability was an emotion she'd been self-taught to conceal and defend at all costs. Stating it so bluntly, Mary-Margaret had startled Emma into a hard truth.

_Maybe that's what I need; the hard truth. _

_No more running or damn excuses. No hidden meanings or messages. Just the truth._

"When did Killian say his flight takes off? One o'clock?"

She nodded slowly, fingers beginning to tremble as they clutched around the mug.

"Then leave at lunch and meet him at the airport before he boards the plane. It's only a half an hour drive, you'll make it."

Mary-Margaret had spoken calmly, but there was hidden passion in the warm smile she wore proudly, and she reached for Emma's free hand and held it in her own. The kind gesture welled tears in Emma's eyes. Always, she'd been hurt or scarred by the past, but suddenly, with her friend's encouragement, and Mary-Margaret's hand in hers, the future seemed of a greater worth.

"You deserve this chance, and Emma…I'd hate for you to regret not taking it. Not risking it for someone who has clearly proven himself willing to wait for you."

"But what if-"

"Oh, come on, Emma, what could _possibly_ be there to still place doubts in your mind?"

"Me." She stared down at the coffee, eyes glazing over into the ever-changing dark that swirled and danced in the mug. "I doubt me."

A physical pain washed over her in clouded memories of never being good enough, and never been chosen. Not even being good enough for her love, for Neal, to wait for... "What if I'm not worth it?"

With a quick swipe, she wiped away a betraying tear and cleared her throat. "Look, whatever. This isn't important to me. I'll just call Killian on the flight and say goodbye. Save the hassle of driving up-"

Ruby snorted. "Pathetic excuse and you know it, Emma."

She looked unapologetic for the interruption this time, and tossed a strand of hair away from her eyes to fixate them on Emma; an unspoken challenge. "I love you, but god, that is an awful lie. With you talking means everything, so."

No argument presented itself, so Emma remained silent until Ruby turned back to resume whatever conversation she'd been having with Belle.

After a brief few moments, Mary-Margaret shook her head sadly. "You know, you're worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for. Really, take a moment and think about yourself, Emma. What you've done. Your achievement. All the rocky roads that life has thrown at you."

A proud smile swept Mary-Margaret's expression into brilliant admiration. "I don't think anyone can say they got out from prison and completely turned their life around like you did. "

The coffee mug truly forgotten now, Emma felt as though she'd been lost in a storm since forever, and was now beginning to realise she'd always know where to find the exit. Every memory she'd been haunted with seemed to float away. Surely, they'd be back, but for the moment, she enjoyed the peaceful vacancy. Nightmares and worries banished for a brief few seconds, they made room for new dreams. Hopes for a happy ending worth fighting for.

"I don't know…" She tried to speak, but found a tight catch in her throat holding her back.

A new-found childlike innocence bled into her. It felt like rediscovering the support and love she'd always supposed to have had, and sensing Mary-Margaret, her other friends, and a possible new love in Killian, it overwhelmed Emma with a blinding want, and _need_.

"…I'm scared…"

Mary-Margaret cut her off in understanding. "Emma, trust me," She began. Bringing her arm up to wrap around Emma in a messy, but comforting, one-armed hug, Mary-Margaret allowed Emma to rest her head against her shoulder as surrender to silent tears. "It's not worth living if you do it just by half. Pick your battles and fight for a worthy cause, and as your friend, I think Killian is a worthy cause worth risking a little heartache over, don't you?"

_Can't argue there, the damn man doesn't have a single flaw. _

Perhaps the over-cocked eyebrow and those cheeky quips and remarks, but _hell_, if they didn't prompt Emma to fall even more.

The side of her head pressed carefully against Mary-Margaret's shoulder, Emma took a moment to relax into the embrace. Her friends had once again proven to be incredible supporters. Tears welled in Emma's eyes over the fierce love growing inside her, blossoming into a flush of happiness.

"What do I do?"

Glad her voice was no longer trembling, but instead confident; Emma straightened her jacket and frowned at Mary-Margaret, hoping for an easy answer.

_Ha. Funny_.

Mary-Margaret leaned back against the kitchen counter, placed her mug to her lips for a moment, and then suggested, "Go to the airport at lunch, just say goodbye, that's it. And if anything else happens, take it for what it is."

She shrugged, but her wide smile only radiated her confidence that everything was panning out exactly how she'd hoped. "Rid yourself of any expectations, Emma, and just…go to him. Go to Killian."

_Go to Killian._

_Go._

_**Go**__._

Like a forceful, yet definitely well-needed, slap across her cheeks, Mary-Margaret's words developed a pleasant melody that sung on repeat through Emma's soul. It latched onto hope and expanded it into reality.

Hanging high overhead like an ominous reminder, the kitchen clock read_; 8:55am. _

In four hours' time, she'd either be with Killian, or without him, and Emma was uncertain which choice felt less scary.

x

Slow minutes blinked into an hour, and Emma was filled to the brim with paperwork. She was buried in answering calls before she had time to even consider her options. She was practical and professional; whatever emotional distress she'd previously felt having been swept away into another busy morning.

However the clocks wouldn't seize their damn reminders.

Every so often, she'd look up, quickly notice the minutes ticking by, and push down the anticipating feeling that she wasn't going to be fast enough to even make a decision. Even the simple act of having a choice felt strange. After all, Emma had rarely been given them.

No wonder she'd chosen to ignore both choices.

After a while, Killian's words began to reappear, along with a string of little smirks and clear bright eyes gazing unashamedly in her direction...

_It's your choice. It always will be, my love._

She pursed her lips.

_Your choice_, he'd said, and Emma knew he meant it.

Another hour skipped by.

x

At 11am, Belle addressed Emma with a finished case file, leaning over the edge of the desk and whispering quietly, as not to be overheard. Unlike Ruby, she was thankfully more aware of gossips. "How are you doing?"

Unable to lie, Emma shrugged, swallowing down a helpless cry; for someone, anyone, to give her a clear direction. "Fine."

Before turning to leave and heading back to her own station, Belle's smile was gentle. "Well, you know where I am if you need to talk…"

Half an hour sped on.

x

_11:30._

Emma opened up another old file out of boredom. With a quick look at the clock, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed;

_11:32._

Tapping away at the keyboard, she glanced over at the clock;

_11:35…_

_For god's sake, stop looking up._

_11:38_.

"Damn this."

_Damn __**him**_, she thought.

There was no trace of bitterness in Emma's remark, however, only a stream of want and need burning against walls of uncertainty.

_If I leave now, I can reach the airport in no time, right?_

_Right._

_No, stay. Call him later and say goodbye._

Aiming a convincing smile at Ruby, who worriedly eyed her as she walked by with a fresh mug of coffee, Emma sighed in relief when the phone rang. She picked it up and was instantly lost in another distraction…

At precisely 12 o'clock, just as she was about to take a well-needed break, a delivered surprise prompted Emma's thoughts to take an abrupt turn into a one-way street towards Killian.

A letter.

"Hey, someone left this for you earlier," With a curious look, Graham had leafed through a stack of gathered post before handing her a familiar, pale green envelope.

"When…?"

"Very early this morning. Told me it was important for you to have it before you left for lunch. Do you recognise the handwriting?"

_Yes_.

"No," She lied.

Carefully turning the letter over and over in her hands, she ignored Graham's strange look and managed a dismissive wave of a hand, quick to ignore the stabbing feeling of regret swelling inside. "Guess it must be junk mail or something."

_Or something._

The very thought of ignoring Killian's last letter cut into Emma like a knife; twisting and turning until she could hardly breathe.

As soon as Graham left, she tore it open;

x

_Dear, Swan, _

_I'm counting on your sheriff, who may I add is devilishly handsome, to deliver this as planned. Quite honestly, I considered switching my affections for a moment there. _

_(Only a moment, I promise.)_

_By now, I suspect you are layering up excuse upon excuse to meet me at the airport, and I realise last night's proposition was too soon. It was unfair of me to ask that of you, Emma. Forgive me. Being a hopeless romantic musician means that sometimes – actually, quite often – I decide it best to be spontaneous, without considering the after-mass. My heart drives me, Swan. Always has, and always will. _

_I know you well, also. _

_I understand all that you are. _

_Past, present, and future; whichever you chose to offer me, I will gladly accept. Because I want you in my life, Emma. Whether you choose to leave it in the past, I can only be thankful for the moments we shared. I'd be lying if I said that the future is of little important. It is, and I want anything for you to take a risk and build one with me. It's a dream I'm willing to share. _

_Should you desire it too, that is._

_I refuse to say the words I know to be true until you are with me, in person, as I want to see your eyes lights up. I want to watch as those unfairly beautiful lips quirk into a smile made only for me. Do not treat this letter as a challenge. Instead, do me a favour, Swan. Forget any words that trigger you as a threat, or any promises that frightens you, and be honest. Strip back any expectations and simply feel. _

_Find me, or call me; write. Whichever you choose, Emma, you should know that goodbye doesn't have to mean forever. Experience may say otherwise, but I'm asking you to trust me and believe that, although it can never be easy, or straightforward, some people are worth fighting for. _

_So, this is me, Killian Jones, fighting for you, Emma. _

_With all of my heart, I hope you'll find that happy endings are closer than you think._

_Sincerely, Jones._

* * *

x

"My flight leaves in twenty minutes…gods above, just tell David to calm down, and that I'll be back before you know it, okay?"

The only answer Killian received was a serious of shouts, followed by a clash of what sounded like aggressively struck drum beats. Toying with the fraying edges of the spare chair he'd found near the airport's local coffee shop, he glanced up at the clock; _12:40._

A small voice cruelly whispered_, Twenty minutes till take off, and no sign of her._

Robin's reply brought Killian back to the present, spoken between helpless laughter. "Yeah….David's still pissed you lied."

He winced as another clash echoed down the line. "Sounds like those poor drums are suffering for it."

Taking off for New York the night before last had been, as his letter to Emma explained, a sudden decision, though one Killian had not regretted, despite the complications it created. He'd been _somewhat_ truthful to the band.

David had disagreed; "Running off on some love-struck is not an emergency, Killian." , his friend had muttered. "We have our first promotional gig in two days and you flew out to goddamn New York to meet a woman."

Returning to the present phone call, Robin was going off on a rant about David's overreaction. "Oh, how did Regina describe it…that's right, 'sulking around like a five-year old without his playmate'?"

A teasing edge wove into Killian's tone at Robin's mention of Regina. "Of course you spoke with Ms Mills about this, mate."

"Bugger off and get your arse back home."

Fortunately, there had been no disastrous repercussions to Killian's actions.

In fact, their new manager, a friendly, yet unmistakably organised woman in her early thirties named Regina, simply asked him to get back soon. They'd all quickly come to respect her, and the guys were also quick to pick up on Robin's eager-to-impress offers of showing Regina around, after her arrival quite literally left the guitarist speechless.

Smart and business-like in nature, Regina was an excellent manager, and Killian had only known her a few weeks. He could easily see the appeal, and grinned whenever Regina shot down Robin's mild flirting with an unimpressed glare.

"Well, you can tell David to settle down. I'm on my way soon."

"You hear that, buddy? The boyfriend's coming home soon! David, hey-"

Another angry clash, followed by a handful of colourful curses thrown at Robin, erupted a laugh from Killian. A young woman managing the flight arrivals desk jumped with a startled look of surprise. Raising his hand in apology, Killian smiled at the attendant before beginning to pace up and down the aisle; waiting for Robin to return.

"Did you want me to pick you up later?"

"No need. I won't be in till late, so I'll just get a taxi instead."

"Sure?"

Killian avoided another pacing passenger, an older man dragging his suitcase round and round as he muttered about late times, before replying. "Yeah."

No more clash of drums interrupted Robin as he spoke this time. "Fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind. Later, buddy."

"Bye."

Cutting the conversation, he collapsed back into the uncomfortably hard seat and drummed his fingers against the side of his own suitcase.

x

_12:45_.

The attendant was about to start calling for his flight at any moment.

_Bloody hell, you did basically tell her not to come._

He'd written the letter early this morning, and dropped it off to the sheriff that Emma had told him about on their date last night. If her gracious description of his goodness was correct, Graham ought to have delivered it a while ago.

_How had she reacted?_ Killian wondered quietly. _Torn it apart? Or re-read it and raced to the airport?_

No.

_You were not tact enough._

His eyes kept glancing over between the clock, and the handful of large entrances scattered at random points in the airport. Dancing looks, back and forth, darting and searching with a flickering hope settling into a quiet wish in the pit of his stomach.

At 12: 46, the attendant opened up the security barrier and smiled at the large crowd that had begun to form amongst the seats. "Flight 29b, from New York to Dublin, is now open to board. Please have your passports and your seat tickets ready for the staff, please, and thank you for your cooperation. Have a safe flight."

Everyone stood to queue, but Killian remained seated with a furious determination to wait as long as possible.

His letter had been truthful. An understanding _was_ already waiting if Emma chose not to come. However that didn't mean Killian wouldn't cling to even the tiniest spark of hope until proven otherwise.

It was simply in his nature to hope for the unreachable.

For a love that wasn't ready to be reciprocated.

_She isn't ready,_ Killian thought sadly, _and I don't blame her either._

And how could he?

How could he blame a woman who'd had little faith to go on other than a lost childhood, a painful past of abandonment, and a desire to bury it?

_12:48._

Killian rubbed at his eyes, blaming the forming tears on the fact that he'd slept very little the previous night, and hiding his disappointment to the flight attendance's curious stare.

_Perhaps friends are all we'll ever be._

Flashbacks to honesty and vulnerability, and _"I am roughly five seconds away from moving to another country for you," _attacked at "Y_ou should go"_ and "_I can't."_ and Killian was left confused all over again.

There _had_ been something between them, he was certain of it.

Chemistry, understanding, and the most wondrous, fearful confession of all; belonging.

_12:50._

"Sir, I have to close the gate in a couple of minutes…"

"One minute?"

"Alright…" An unspoken question dancing in the young woman's eyes as she eyed him up curiously, and replied slowly, as though torn between duty, and wanting to ask what was really going on, "…just another minute then…"

"Thanks, love."

What if he had pushed Emma too far?

Perhaps he should've been completely honest and offered his heart right there and then outside the door.

But Emma had been drunk and cutely flirtatious and mumbling and if he stayed a second longer, their clothes would be in a discarded pile of passionate kisses and tugging…

"Hey, I uh…I have to shut the gate, kind of now…"

With a heavy heart, Killian didn't bother scanning the room once more.

He knew what he'd see, and have to accept; no one.

_No Emma._

She wasn't coming.

_That's settled then. _

Shoulders rounded in defeat, Killian handed his boarding pass to the flight attendant, ignoring her pitiful look, as though she'd read his mind and sympathised deeply.

_Friends and nothing-_

"JONES!"

-_more_.

Spinning around in an instant, Killian had never felt such a rush as the one that presented itself in that moment.

_Was that-?_

His eyes searched furiously.

"KILLIAN."

Upon locating the desperate shout, sudden joy lit his eyes and prickled Killian's senses.

He managed to spin around once more before-

She crashed into him like a light; sparking and burning with all kinds of hope as they collided.

Without grace, but also without shame.

Killian's smile broadened the wingspan of the sky as his arms found their natural hold around Emma's waist. A tense sort of silence filled their embrace. One that remained unspoken. Tugging her closer without pause for thought, Killian murmured her name, and Emma instantly relaxed in his arms.

"_Jones_."

Her gentle whisper felt like coming home.

Killian smiled into the hug. "I was beginning to think you'd never show."

Before he had a moment to catch his own breath, Killian watched Emma pull away, cheeks freshly pink, as though she'd been running – and little did he know it, she had – and quickly begin to explain, "I'm so sorry…I uh, actually got here about fifteen minutes ago," She explained in-between breathes. ", but then I had to get a ticket to get past security-"

She broke off with a breathless laugh and her cheeks seemed to flush even darker as she rushed on, "It's not like those damn films, you know, you actually have to _buy_ a ticket before you can get through. And then I couldn't find your flight…and so I asked the help board, but the queue was massive, and then…"

She paused for another breath.

Softness then entered Emma's eyes, crinkling the corners as she smiled and quietly finished, ", and then I found you…"

And with his arms still holding Emma's waist, she gave Killian little time to process her appearance, let alone her amusing tale, before wrapping her hands around the lapels of his suit jacket and tugging his head down towards hers.

Their lips met in a flash, and in that moment, all Killian could feel was Emma.

Her touch. The soft, blonde hair; tickling the backs of Killian's fingertips as they moved and held Emma's face.

It was far from perfect, hell, it was a mess. Their lips were forceful in a blur of hazy passion. Their teeth clashed briefly. But despite the little imperfections, Killian and Emma felt lost and found in their, finally, happy moment. A confession woven into the kiss, they clung to its meaning of hope, and together and…_yes_.

Emma's fingers tugged desperately against Killian's hair; exploring and giving experimental tugs that sparked a low, heated desire in Killian's stomach. His response, having waited in painful longing after all this time, was to tug and tease Emma's lower lip in-between his teeth; the little gasp offering a satisfied flair of heat to the already burning flame inside his heart. A content sigh was shared as they pulled back.

Just for a moment, Killian allowed it to mean everything.

No other worries and anxieties were given any thought as he held Emma in his arms.

_My love…you're all I'll ever need_.

Killian was now, not so surprisingly, quite certain that Emma returned the feeling.

The desire for more was suddenly interrupted by someone giving a very pointed cough, a little distance away.

Realisation struck.

_Airport. _

_Plane…leaving._

The flight attendant was watching them quietly, her own eyes reflecting a softness that Killian felt was in his own. "I can give you only a few more minutes." She offered, and turned away to give them a moment's privacy.

Killian turned his gaze back to Emma, who was quietly staring up at him with such a clear look of love in her warm eyes that he almost kissed her again. This moment had been a damn long time coming. He'd bloody well make the most of it before another one made itself presentable.

His hands still half tangled in her curls, Killian finally spoke, "Emma, that was…"

"-Goodbye." She cut off with a finger held playfully against his lips in warning. He recognised the determined edge in her voice was a warning, not a full-out rejection. "It was a goodbye."

"Well, then. I must, Swan," Matching her teasing look and tiny smirk, Killian's eyebrow rose. He trailed a hand, slowly, along the back of Emma's neck and grinned in delight when she shivered; wanting more. "I thoughroughly enjoy how you say goodbye."

"Mm." She hummed quietly as his fingers continued to dance along her neck. Eyelashes fluttered before Emma's smirk grew into a sinful grin. "You're not so bad yourself, Jones."

"So I've been told."

Emma slapped a hand across his chest. "Shut up."

"Really, Swan, I'm hurt." His husky voice was low; completely wrecked. Daring to tease her further, Killian brought his lips down closer to hers again, teasing her upper lip between his, and as he spoke, the touch lingered and tingled dangerously close. "I cross an entire ocean for you and one tiny kiss is all you can manage as thanks?"

She gasped as Killian's touch sparked thoughts unsuitable for a public airport.

He smirked. "Is that all our date meant to you?"

The kiss that followed was just as passionate as the first, but with a careful tenderness that shook Killian's resolve in an instant.

x

Emma kissed Killian as though nothing was between them, nor would it ever be.

Not distance, and certainly not the past.

For now, this was a moment only for them.

Her hands woven tightly into Killian's dark hair, pulling at the small strands by the nape of his neck, Emma groaned as their bodies pressed even closer. Heat blossomed down her thighs, and the delightful pressure of their lips rekindled a desire she'd feared would never return.

This was what Emma needed.

_Who_ she needed, in fact.

This time, Killian pulled away, lips assumedly mirroring her own; dark pink and kiss-swollen. He gazed down with a clear intent to never leave Emma's side, those blue eyes so unafraid and unashamed to fall completely into a life with her, and Emma returned it as bravely as she could.

"Emma…I really have to go now."

She swallowed down the regret of having wasted a grand deal of time already. "I know."

"I wish I could stay."

The pained expression on Killian's usually cheerful face sprung tears to Emma's eyes, and she nodded once, desperately trying to seem understanding, rather than consumed by the threat of tearing away a happiness she'd just found.

"I know." She repeated, barely a whisper.

"Will you miss me?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Emma snapped a little too harshly than intended.

Killian simply grinned, and when she felt his arms trace pleasant circles and patterns against her thin, cotton shirt, Emma immediately softened into his hold.

"I'll miss you."

Now it was Emma's turn to quirk an eyebrow, as she cocked her head at him and asked, as sweetly as possible, "Promise?"

His answering kiss stole away what little anxiety Emma had left.

"Good."

_Hell_, she sounded as wrecked as he looked.

"Looks like we're on the same page, love."

A pause lingered, and Emma stilled. She understood the weight of Killian's words, and the deep look of '_I'm here for you, and you only.'_ danced inside Emma until her knees threatened to give way.

"Would you look at that?" She met Killian's gaze and smiled.

The distance between them would never be easy, but having only spent an entire day with him, Emma had never been more sure of a decision that this one. To fight for Killian, just as he'd clearly proven willing to fight for her love.

The flight attendant from earlier tapped Killian on the shoulder and shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I'm sorry, but the gate is now closing …"

"It's fine, you've been most helpful. Thank you."

She, taking Killian's handed passport and checking it briefly, blushed at Killian's sincere attention. Emma suppressed a sympathetic look. She wouldn't blame the young woman for melting into a gooey pile.

_Damn man._

_Yours, _a small voice began to whisper_, your man._

_Yes, mine_, Emma thought happily.

_Mine at last._

She followed Killian through as far as she could, right up to the flight gate, before being ushered back by a security guard. He turned back and kissed Emma quickly; cradling her head tenderly in his hands before pulling back with a wide grin.

"Until next time, Swan."

"Have a safe trip."

Emma smiled against his lips.

Despite the urge to keep her hands wrapped inside Killian's, or touch every part of him – hands, hair, lips – there was also a sudden relief that they'd have all the time they needed, and more. Little worries, sure, but Emma felt a vacancy that was quickly being filled with a new faith.

Grumbling about, '_stupid distance'_ and '_timing_…' in a display that Emma found rather adorable, Killian stepped over the gate like someone forced into admitting defeat.

She understood.

The effort it took not to run over the barrier and kiss him was building and growing with force, but Emma simply watched with an unwavering smile as Killian handed in his security pass.

Just when she was ready to watch him disappear, Killian turned back to her with a deliciously wicked grin, and mouthed, '_you're mine'_ to Emma, and only her.

A blush betrayed her delight, and Emma waved away a hand in farewell.

However, before he rounded the corner, Killian surprised her one more time, and turning back to the security guard – with his eyes firmly rooted to hers – proudly announced, "You see that beautiful woman over there?"

"…That's Emma Swan…"

She grinned so wide that her lips began to ache, wondering if it was possible to be overwhelmed with happiness because of one single person.

Though Killian Jones was more than that.

Ever since the first letter, she'd known.

Somehow, she'd always known.

Emma's realisation echoed Killian's final words;

_I love him._

"…I love her..."

Finally, and sincerely, Emma Swan seemed to be heading in the direction of a happy ending worth fighting for.

x

* * *

**So, we've reached the end!**

**(Sort of)**

**Here's the thing; I felt this has come to a natural conclusion, but I also do not want to give up writing their story just yet.**

**I'm considering doing one-shots set in the future, if anyone would be interested?**

**For now, it's finished, so th****anks to all who have reviewed and enjoyed reading this story and let me know what you thought of the ending. **

**B****est wishes :)**


	9. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

* * *

x

_Dear, Swan,_

_It's been only ten days since we parted yet I feel your absence greatly. Victor called me 'lovesick' the other night, but I suspect he won't be the one laughing when his favourite guitar goes missing…_

_(See what separation does to the soul, love?)_

_Perhaps I ought to return it before Victor too, goes insane. After all, I've been warned that it's extremely difficult to replace a fellow guitarist five weeks before a tour so I'd rather not cause a war outbreak..._

_Right, then; an amusing anecdote for you, Swan – _

_Our first gig was last night and over two hundred people turned up at a local venue. I was so convinced the crowd were expecting another band that it wasn't until our entire set was over - and surprisingly, no one stormed out – that I accepted our new-found fame._

_I know what you're thinking, love. __Fame is a strong word._

_Fair enough. _

_However, it was grand to hear fellow music-lovers singing along to music I'd written alone in a studio. There was definitely something wonderfully surreal about the gig. Considering weeks before, these songs were rough drafts and random pieces of songs all pieced together one by one, I felt a wondrous strangeness the entire time. _

_We even had an encore, can you believe it? _

_Well, there's one thing for certain now; if this was a tiny gig, Swan, I'm unsure whether I'm prepared for the tour._

_Prepared or not, it's five weeks to go, so if you'll excuse me, I must be off now. Our next gig is in a few days up at the Boyle Art Festival in Longford, which I'm most looking forward to. Hopefully we'll be able to play some of the songs off the album too._

_I miss you beyond words can say, Swan, so please write and tell me about anything and everything. Life in New York, work; the colour of the sky where you are. __Thank the gods for the busy schedule otherwise I'd be neck-deep in writing angst-filled songs about distance and a certain blonde with eyes that awakens my soul._

_Yours – until you grow tired - _

_Jones._

_P.S. I've been informed that a dozen newspapers are currently attempting to find the 'source of my romantic muse'. _

_P.P.S. My advice to you, Swan; watch out._

* * *

_x_

_Dear, Jones,_

_First of all, I must sadly inform you that life here is as usual. _

_In fact, work is now a nightmare thanks to you. Honestly, Mary-Margaret and Belle have yet to quit teasing me ever since you left. I'm really beginning to question my choice of friendships. _

_However you're not the only one who has been deemed 'lovesick' either. According to one Ruby Lucas, I am a 'grumpy lovesick puppy' which is, of course, ridiculous given the fact that I, a) am currently writing to you, and b) gleefully holding back details of our date in order to maintain blackmailing Ruby into submission._

_For now, it's holding up wonderfully. _

_(She's even bought me bear claws every day for the past week. How about that?)_

_Be proud, Jones; b__e very proud._

_I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of you often. _

_Whenever I pass this tiny music shop on the corner of Astor Place, your handsome face pops into my mind. Smirks and raised brow and all. I'm not used to being in the, as Ruby calls it, 'dating pool' so I'm surprised I've yet to panic. _

_Though perhaps, after all, I'm learning to swim again. __That is if you promise to swim alongside me?_

_Accept the blame for that hideous metaphor, Jones; I beg you._

_Please do keep me informed of how the Festival goes. If it's anything like the previous events, I'm sure you'll have many more amusing tales to tell, complete with crazy fans and if you're lucky, even the odd stalker!_

_Sincerely, Swan._

_P.S. I miss you._

_P.P.S. Scratch that. Let's raise the cliché bar even higher; I miss you, **and** I wish you were here._

* * *

x

"And she agreed?"

"Well, if you count a surprised expression as a 'yes' – like Robin, bless his soul, did – then I suppose she didn't _flat out _say no."

Emma snorted out a laugh.

"Oh, but Swan, you ought to have been here to witness such a beautiful moment. Of awkward silence and embarrassment, Robin was a complete mess. A schoolboy hanging his head, even."

"And Regina blushed? Seriously? Like…actual flushed cheeks and fluttery eyelashes? We are talking about your manager, Regina Mills, right? The beautiful but sharp Queen of business and organisation?"

Even the image seemed quite ridiculous, and Emma couldn't wipe away the amused grin tugging at her lips as she pictured poor Robin inviting Ms. Mills for coffee after work.

Killian's laugh echoed a pleasant sound dancing down the line. "Seven hells, Regina looked positively scandalized." He relayed, pausing to chuckle before continuing once more. "We're in the studio at the moment. That is, Victor and I. David disappeared to meet a friend, but we'll be sure to bug Robin for details the second he returns later."

Silently mouthing a 'thank you' to Ruby as she handed her a mug of hot chocolate, Emma looked impressed. "Huh. Well played Robin."

"Honestly, Swan," Killian's reply was equally pleased. "I feel like a proud father."

"I bet."

"How are things in New York?"

"Fine, I guess. Same old. Although, uh," She paused to run a hesitating hand over the armchair. "Something rather interesting did happen a couple of days ago."

"Do tell."

"Tamara came into the station."

"This is the wife of He-who-shall-not-be-named?"

"Correct."

"What for?"

Emma cleared her throat for a beat, unreceptive to the quiet feeling of shame that seemed to tag along with even the simple mention of the past. "She uh…actually came to see me. Wanting to apologise. Apparently Neal confessed to how we knew each other, and she felt, how she phrased it, 'awkward'. We spoke for a bit, but…can you believe it? She actually knows Belle through the library, so thing weren't too painful after she arrived."

"Gods. Sounds like a rather uncomfortable situation." He paused, and then asked, tone slipping lower and gentler, "Are _you_ alright, Swan?"

"I am."

"Sure, love?"

"I'm sure. Tamara was actually rather sweet."

A pause allowed her to realise the completely truth accompanying Emma's words.

She _was_ fine.

A little startled perhaps, but certainly not overcome with grief from a bitter past. The little angst surrounding Emma made her relax. Her conversation with Tamara had been awkward at first, but after a while it became clear that it was more awkward for the other woman than for Emma, and she excused herself back to work with a friendly farewell.

_Fancy that_, Emma had thought; absent-mindedly shifting paperwork with a shaking edge to her movement. There was a moment where she feared the sweeping wave of numbness would send her into shock. Instead, shaking the strange meeting away – but being sure to tuck it away for a later date for Ruby, Killian or another – Emma had turned back to work.

"I wish you could be here."

A quiet tension hovered down the line at Killian's words.

"Me too." Emma said quietly. Her smile was small. Torn between the enjoyments of such casual confessions, and the tight, painful constriction of Killian's prescence. A strong, burning presence waiting to envelop her in warmth. For now, she'd have to accept a phone call, or the odd letter or note passed on. It was the best of a painfully distant situation.

"So," She shrugged away the mellow ache and added, what Emma hoped to be, a chipper note to her voice. "How does it all work? The tour, I mean? Do you guys all group together in a big van and tour the country singing folk songs?"

"I think you'll find that was done in the 60s, Swan. We have cars, limos, and oh, even airplanes as well. Who even bothers with vans anymore?"

"I _like_ camper vans." Emma protested.

"Apologies, lass."

The annoyed grunt she gave in reply only made Killian laugh.

"Kodaline's first tour date is in five weeks." He carried on with usual brightness. "June 29th, to be exact. Up in Dublin. So we'll gear up and join them there the week before. Cue rehearsals, track listing and ordering, etcetera…"

"Until then it's practise, practise?"

Another quiet chuckle gave way. "Exactly." He agreed. "I do believe we're scheduled for a bloody radio interview this weekend."

The begrudging tone of his voice didn't escape Emma. Nor did the frustrated mutter that was so unlike Killian she blinked once, then asked, "Take it you're not fond of interviews, Jones?"

"Understatement. My dear, Emma, they're nightmares. Spontaneous nightmares." He added with a sigh. "What if I say too little, or ramble on, or god forbid, what if I curse to the entire nation?"

"That does sound like a nightmare." She agreed carefully but couldn't hide a curving smirk_. _

_Killian Jones, frightened of an interview, _Emma thought in wicked amusement. W_ho would've thought?_

A faint rustling and audible voices broke into the background, and Killian's voice was apologetic when he returned to the phone. "Indeed. On that note, I must bid you farewell."

"Regina?"

Killian chuckled. "Regina." He confirmed.

Hiding her disappointment, Emma did her best not to scowl. "At least she gave you a break this time." She said with only a small trace of satire. "Robin's charm must be rubbing off her after all."

"One can only hope. I'll call you when I have the chance."

"I'll be…waiting."

Emma winced. _Damn, that sounded pathetic. _

She may have admitted on various occasions of her feelings towards Killian, but old habits die hard, and once again, the desire to surround herself in cool preservation was fighting against Emma. It was a never-ending battle of control. To fight and remain open and honest. Not to run and hide behind the past as she'd done for so many years.

"Good." Killian's soft reply relaxed those worries. "I miss you, Swan."

"JONES, I SWEAR TO GOD. IF YOU DO NOT GET OFF THAT PHONE AND GET YOUR ARSE BACK-"

The phone was cut off, leaving Emma with a guilty grin, and an unspoken reply;

"Miss you too, Jones."

* * *

_5 weeks, 4 days later._

_x_

"You know…I never thanked you. For before, I mean…"

"Which time are we talking about here?"

Ruby squirmed in her seat, glancing away from the tiny window to shoot Emma a gleeful grin. "The time I set you up with the guy of your dreams? Or are you just generally thanking me for being the greatest friend you could've asked for?" Ruby sighed with dramatic flair as her eyes lit up playfully. "One should keep a list of all one's heroic moments. There have been so many, after all."

An eyebrow rose as Emma hid her amusement. Settling for an eye-roll, she returned Ruby's gaze with a retort of, "Is one done yet?"

"One is."

"Excellent. May I continue?"

Ruby winked. "You may."

Thanking others hadn't ever been in Emma's list of special talents, though she'd been making an effort to as of now. She glanced around the plane, watching as other passengers strapped in and plugged in headphones, or chatted to their fellow partners and friends with delighted laughs. Others looked visibly shaken and stared with vacant expressions in hope that it'd all be over soon.

Noticing a particularly stressed man, roughly in his late forties, she thought; _it's a seven hour flight, buddy_, and sent a silent prayer his way.

Someone pointedly cleared their throat, and Emma realised she'd completely blanked Ruby and turned back to her friend, who was now raising her own eyebrow. "I believe you were going to thank me?" She said good-naturedly.

"Uh, yes…I was. I wanted to thank you for our date."

Either Ruby feigned innocence or she was seriously not registering Emma's words, and she cocked her head at her friend and frowned. "…date?"

"Oh. _The_ date. Thank – thank you for _the_ date."

Ruby's blank look didn't clear.

"Look," Emma sighed, her patient warring. "I _know_ it was you prompted Killian to take me to the dinner/dance at the hotel, and I wanted to thank you. It was an amazing night. That's it. That's all you're getting." Stubbornness settled into her as she broke eye contact and folded her arms across her chest.

After a few moments, with only the background noise of quiet chattering, Ruby poked her in the ribs. A delighted grin broke out over her face. "You're most welcome."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Damn right, I am. Waiting for gratitude from you is like waiting for this _damn plane to hurry up and take flight already_-" Ruby's voice lowered to an angry whisper in the same moment a loud whirring from the engines began to grow louder.

Now it was Emma's turn to grin in triumph. "You were saying?"

x

A few hours passed by in quiet solitude.

Ruby was busy watching some sci-fi film involving kick-ass ladies battling in tiny outfits and wielding ludicrously heavy weaponry. It didn't seem to bother Ruby, who was sucked into a whirlwind of action and slow-motion fight scenes, leaving Emma to ponder the events that had led them to their flight.

It had begun with a fairly casual question.

All Mary-Margaret had asked in her usual cheerful manner, was, "Any of you thinking of making summer plans this year?" – And that was it.

An idea.

A spark.

Thoughts turned into queries. Queries turned into secret phone calls, and a surprising new friendship was formed.

Regina wasn't actually as sharp and scary as Emma had feared.

From Killian's amusing tales of Robin's wooing their manager, and her snippy remarks towards him, she'd prepared to fight for the opportunity she'd hoped for. Instead, Regina had agreed easily; even going as far as saying it was a romantic surprise, and one she'd do her best to keep a surprise.

"You're sure?"

"Very. You see, Ms Swan, I always keep a handful of tickets safe in case of emergencies. Consider this a…relationship emergency, and I'll be certain I can secure you, and a friend, front row tickets as well as backstage passes."

Unable to conceal how pleased she was, Emma beamed happily and sent gratitude down the phone. "I can't thank you enough, Ms Mills. Really, it's very kind of you."

"It's not a problem, dear." Regina said warmly. "I want the best for my label, and my bands, of course, and quite often, I've seen love does wonders for first performances. Someone tell that to the Robin, the _idiot_…"

Emma grinned into the phone. "Love troubles, Ms Mills?"

"Many musicians think they're god's gift to women. Robin is no different." Regina muttered, though from personal experience, Emma felt it was strained criticism; shielding emotion elsewhere. "Even if he seems…somewhat charming….they're all the same. All wanting a quick fling with the boss. Never mind. I can hold my ground."

She had a feeling that Regina's frustration was rooted in pride, not anger, but decided to press no further. After all, there only so far one could point out the obvious.

_When you want to see it, you will_.

Instead, Emma felt it appropriate to head off back to work with a passing remark of, "Good luck with that one."

"It's not I who'll be needing luck, my dear." Regina's voice dropped low with a victorious laugh. "You're dating Killian Jones."

And that was it.

All settled with a concert ticket booked later that month, Emma invited Ruby – deciding it was only fair that she invite the friend who set everything up – and the two began preparing flights, hotels; all whilst keeping it a secret from Killian and the band.

This was even more difficult now that Ruby had extended her own…friendship.

"Excited to meet Victor then?"

"Perhaps."

Ruby's answering shrug didn't fool Emma. The two had been chatting on the phone every while and again, and Emma had noticed her friend's flushed cheeks and a little-too-loud laughter echoing from the lounge, or bedroom, every now and then. As the weeks had grown closer to the concert, Emma was certain they'd leave Ireland with more than just one happy musician.

"But," Taking the opportunity to turn the tables around, Ruby paused whatever crappy chick flick she'd clicked on and leaned on her elbow to smirk across. "Let's talk about you and Killian though."

"Nice try." She turned her head away with an eye-roll. Ignoring Ruby's quiet begging, she watched the gentle dipping of the plane isle, lost in its quiet movement lulling her into a peaceful state of rest.

"-Have you considered what's going to happen after the tour?"

That caught Emma's attention.

She reluctantly turned back to Ruby with a sigh, careful to avoid showing Ruby that she'd won the game just yet.

"What about it?" She asked.

"Well, have you discussed it? Is Killian staying in Ireland, or coming over here? Or…are you staying with him? These are not conversations you can just avoid, sweet cherub. Consider the distance a pretty huge impact on any relationship-"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to scare me? Because it's working." Her teeth grounded together to avoid losing her cool in the middle of a long air-borne journey. She was stuck with her friend for a few more hours; there was no use in making it uncomfortable.

If she was perfectly honest, Ruby's words frightened, not angered, her.

There were moments of fear at least every week or so. Times when Emma would wonder whether the simplest of complications would lead to the end of everything good and new. Would an argument lead to the end of them? The thought of Killian disappearing from her life tightened Emma's gut, wrenching and pulling it with taunting teeth.

"Crap, no. Of course not..." Ruby looked crestfallen, her smile no longer visible. "Oh, Emma, I'm sorry. I was only trying to…well; make sure you'd considered it. That's all. I didn't mean for you to…"

"Freak out?"

Ruby grimaced, her expression now apologetic. "Oh, Jesus." She groaned as though she'd been injured, and Emma felt a little guilty that she'd perhaps over-reacted too. "Am I a terrible friend?"

"No." Placing a comforting hand over her friend's arm, Emma found the next words come out with a natural softness. "You're my best friend."

There was another pause as Ruby returned her smile warmly. The corners of her lips, adorned in their usual brilliant shade of red, twitched mischievously. "Don't start getting mushy on me, Emma Swan."

Emma shook her head fondly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"As much as I love you, I think I love this film more. Would you mind if I…?"

"Go ahead. I'm in need of some rest anyway."

With that, Emma closed her eyes, reclined the seat a little way, and relaxed into sleep.

* * *

x

_The Academy_ was quick and easy to locate.

_Just follow the screaming fans and loud noise, _Emma thought.

She quickly felt the need to loop her arm through Ruby's to keep together amidst the bustling crowd of people.

A large building grew nearer, gracefully looming over in an elegant arched roof high above and displaying the concert banner in bright splashes of reds, blues and greens. Surrounded by so many eager fans shot excitement across Emma's body. She'd not been to a concert before, and was soaking up the electric atmosphere with wide eyes and a tight grip on her friend.

She leaned across and gestured Ruby towards the already swarming group of gatherers near the entrance.

"Should we hurry up and queue? I'm worried-"

Cut off by another burst of cheers from a group passing by, Ruby leaned in closer and raised her voice to a yell. "CONCERT RULE NUMBER ONE: YOU HAVE TO SHOUT. LIKE THIS. OR I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING YOU'RE SAYING."

"DO WE QUEUE WITH THE OTHERS?"

Ruby shook her head and laughed as though she'd heard a wonderful joke. "WE DO NOT FRATINISE WITH THE PEASANTS, EMMA. YOU'RE DATING THE LEAD SINGER, REMEMBER?" She tugged her closer through the crowds, yelling as to be heard over the growing noise. "FOLLOW ME, AND WATCH AND LEARN."

Once they reached the beginning of the queue, Emma quickly trailed Ruby through to a small line, where guests were flashing pieces of papers and tickets towards a tall, muscular man, who then waved them through with a curt nod.

The bouncer turned to Ruby, who revealed their front row passes with a dazzling smile that would've put the sun to shame.

"Emma Swan and Ruby Lucas." She announced with pride. "Dating and soon-to-be dating the lead singer and the guitarist. May we pass, please?" She smiled so sweetly that even the quiet, unmoving guard who opened the door returned her smile as they passed through and into the venue.

When they were inside, Emma nudged Ruby with her elbow. "Soon-to-be-dating, huh?" She threw a suggestive look towards her roommate, who was far too busy scanning the crowd to notice.

Ruby spun around after a few moments and winked. "Confidence _is_ sexy."

She couldn't argue with that, and silently sent Victor all the luck he'd need. It looked as though the guitarist was about to feel the full force of Ruby Lucas. Judging from what she'd heard over phone calls alone, Emma doubted that the flirtation _wouldn't_ be recuperated.

After thoughts of her friend's romance faded, her mind returned to her own reasons with a sharp, delighted reminder.

_Killian._

_He's here…and close._

The realisation that she was actually here, in Ireland, waiting to see Killian on-stage, suddenly hit her with force. She'd been so completely wrapped up in organisation that she hadn't considered the negatives. What if the surprise backfired?

Loose strands of blonde hair rested over her shoulder, and she carefully tilted her head forwards to hide amidst them; blocking away the crowds, and noise and cheerful bubbles of laughter scattered around the large room. The standing area was almost full already, and it took little movement to guess that the many rows of seats in the floor above were also claimed.

Emma tugged her jacket tighter around her. Anxiety was beginning to ice the excited warmth that she'd previously swum into. Growing colder in fear-

"Hey," Ruby's hand waved in-front of her face. "Are you okay? You've gone all pale."

"Great." She mumbled, using the opportunity of buying the first round of drinks as an excuse to avoid any conversation. When she'd returned with their usual – vodka tonic for Ruby, and Rum and coke for Emma – unfortunately Ruby's persistence hadn't disappeared.

Taking a slow sip from the glass, she looked at her with a flickering gaze searching for a problem.

"Sure you're okay?" Ruby asked carefully.

Emma nodded. "Just a little nervous, that's all. Nothing I can't handle."

Noticing a handful of tables, they found a small one in the corner and claimed it before another large group arrived. As she sat, Ruby eyed Emma with a pleased grin. "Well, you look great, that's for sure."

That directed her attention elsewhere. Ruby had been adamant in having a part to play in her outfit, and they'd settled on a tight, black dress that sat just above the knees accompanied by Emma's favourite burgundy leather jacket slinked over her shoulders. A little eyeliner and lipstick later and she had been deemed concert-ready.

Ruby's eyes twinkled. "Killian's going to have a heart attack on stage."

_Oh, hell._

"Seriously? Come on. Why would you say that?" Emma scolded and took a larger gulp of her drink. "Please. No heart attacks or accidents. Just…totally not funny."

A hand flew to her friend's lips as she tried, and failed, to stifle another laugh. She waved a hand in apology when Emma glared. "Sorry. You're adorable when you're nervous."

"Shut it, Ruby."

"See? How cute."

Emma relapsed into quiet grumbles after that.

After another few drinks, they debated going backstage before the concert – Ruby seemed particularly eager to meet and greet the band – but the room was pressed full of bodies, standing and sitting, so they decided to wait till after the set. She didn't want anything ruining Killian, and the band's first official performance.

"Are you…_nervous_?" Ruby implored with a teasing look; watching her friend writhe her hands together for the thousandth time that minute.

"I'm nervous for _them_." She admitted. It was only a half-lie. At least half of her worries were directed towards the band, though her confidence in their unity was stronger than any anxieties. However, they weren't strong enough to overthrow her personal cautions.

"You could try reciting Greek mythology characters?" Ruby offered slyly. When Emma didn't reply, she patted her hand warmly and added, "Alright, well let me know if you need some air-"

"HELLO, DUBLIN!"

The responsive erupt of cheers was wonderfully loud.

"Emma, quick!" Ruby pulled her away from the table to grab a standing view. "Get your gorgeous ass over here."

The pair quickly clambered for a better view, holding up their tickets to slip past the barrier.

Closer to the front, Emma's fears began to spark once again. Sweat and heat built up across her forearms and neck. As it began sticking the leather jacket to her skin, she quickly shrugged it off with a slight tremble in her hands and placed it along the barrier. They were close, but not completely along the front.

_Thank god. If he sees me…_

The announcer onstage, a dark-haired woman with a wide grin and dark curls – waved at the crowd. She held up her microphone and addressed the crowd loudly. "ARE YOU GUYS READY?"

_Definitely not._

However a thousand cheers and screams disagreed with Emma and she felt a sense of beaming pride as she looked back and saw the overcrowded room and eager stream of people.

The presenter cast a quick look to the side, nodded once, and then spoke to the crowd again. "Our opening act is a new band that has only just hit the scene this year! You guys love them already –"

She was cut off by a dozen choruses of happy shouts, and Emma's warm pride began to push aside any worries.

"And so, here for their exclusive debut, please give a warm Dublin welcome, to _The Untitled_!"

_This is it._

Her eyes closed, just for a moment, as a quiet anticipation washed over the crowd for a single heartbeat. The moment between waiting, and arriving. Emma sent a prayer, and a good luck to her boys – _hell_, _I did not just call them my boys_ – and opened her eyes alongside a crescendo of passionate screams and cheers.

Four young men walked onto the stage, and their presence was instant.

Waving and grinning like schoolboys, they appeared with a natural charm and purpose that felt comfortable to watch. She offered a quick look as David took his place behind the drums. He began warming up with a quick beat, sending the crowd into another loud roar as Robin and Victor strapped on their guitars at opposite ends of the stage; grinning at one another in a state of wonderstruck delight.

She was searching, still waiting for _him_.

Ruby cupped her hands around her mouth to yell, but Emma quickly bumped her shoulder and said, loudly, "YOU PROMISED!"

She rolled her eyes but protested no further, turning back to the stage. They'd both quickly been swept into concert-madness and energy, and found themselves cheering and clapping alongside everyone else.

_Come on, Jones. _

And finally, just when the crowd seemed to settle for a moment, Killian walked – or more so, sauntered – onto the stage with a grin that Emma itched to wipe off with a searing kiss. There was no ounce of arrogance in his walk, but a confidence; a purpose, to play good music with good people, to a good crowd.

_Looking handsome as usual, Jones,_ she thought admirably, eyeing Killian up with a shameful lack of subtly. Dressed in a black leather pants – _tight_, a cheeky part of her added slyly; _oh, so tight_… - that clung to his form, he was also adorned in a dark navy shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal muscular forearms.

She noticed another addition with a smirk.

_Damn him. The bastard's wearing braces._

With a quick careful movement, Killian pulled at the straps, casting his eyes over the cheering crowd with a wicked grin, _and damn it, he knows exactly what he's doing. _

The heat flushing Emma's cheeks was only partially due to the warmth of dancing bodies pressed closer and closer, eager to get to the front. There was no way she'd survive eye contact, so she hid behind taller gatherers and kept an eye on Ruby a few feet away.

Robin leaned into his microphone and shouted, "GOOD EVENING, DUBLIN!"

An explosion of cheers greeted him.

"Whoa, let's see if we can keep that energy up! It's an honour for us to be able to play for you folk tonight." Robin adjusted his guitar strap and smiled again. "We're _The Untitled_. Are you ready for a good night?"

Careful eyes still on Killian, Emma watched as he looked across the crowd – thankfully, roaming towards the back – and enjoyed his look of complete wonder and peace. It smoothed his expression and added a sweet youth to his bright eyes. She hoped it was everything he'd wanted and more.

A grin tugged at his lips as he took his place center-stage and spoke to the crowd. "Hi, guys. It's great to be back in a place that inspired all of us. We'll do our best to make sure you all have a fantastic time!"

Emma felt herself clapping and shouting just like all the other over-excited gatherers. He spoke confidently, and she felt drawn into Killian's voice as though it were a song without instruments. A guidance pulling her towards him.

He paused, waiting for the crowd to die down a little, and then exchanging looks with the others, nodded once and added, "So, we're going to kick off with a cover that I think you'll all recognise. How'd you all feel about Jimi Hendrix?"

The answering screams were enough to widen his grin. "Excellent. This is '_All along the Watchtower'_. Enjoy."

Simply watching Killian on-stage was as good as any drug. It was a mixture of excitement, passion and heat, but also a calm peace swirling around inside her mind. He moved like a wind, whipping up a storm of intensity wherever he looked.

And then he began to sing, and Emma fell a little more.

The band was a confident unit.

They listened to each other and kept careful checks on timing and synchronicity, and the crowd felt at ease within seconds. But when Killian began to sing, the crowd swept into another moment; suspended in a tiny pocket of timed enjoyment. A clear passion was evident in Killian's voice, and the changing expressions; a small smile, closed eyes creating unknown images of inspiration.

Emma sung and swayed along with the others; an arm looped happily around Ruby's waist as the pair felt the time pass by with each song. They played a mixed set. A few acoustics in-between indie-folk tunes and the odd classic rock cover also.

Half an hour passed, and then another and it was almost time to announce Kodaline. The crowd protested and cried, "ENCORE, ENCORE, ENCORE!" and so the band grinned and played one more song, and then another.

"Alright, guys, we really do have to go after one final song- no more! We're leaving. That's it. We're done. We love you, really, we do, but we really have to pack up…"

Killian laughed into the microphone and Emma's heart warmed to the sound. He looked towards the front and she ducked her head quickly, lamely pretending to tie a shoe without laces. The amused look Ruby shot her was also ignored.

"Anyway, we're going to play one final song. It's off our debut album, and, well…I'd like to dedicate it to someone very special." He hesitated, and the bob of his throat as he swallowed was clear with a sudden emotion. The crowd recognised it too, and stilled to a listening silence; hanging on every word, just like she was.

When he looked up, Emma noticed not only the small smile curving at Killian's lips, but the wistful look of distant hope in his green eyes. His voice was now quiet, "She's uh…not actually here right now, but gods, I wished she was."

Killian's eyes traced the crowd once again, and her breath hitched in anticipation. He fixed on a quiet spot near the back before looking down and finished his dedication– "This one's for you, Swan. It's…called _Anchors and Shipwrecks_. I hope you like it."

_Oh_.

Romantic didn't even begin to cover the finished song.

Once, it had been a draft; a beginning. A verse or two. Now the song had grown into a beautiful masterpiece of emotion and gentleness. The soft melody was exactly as it had been before. When he'd played it over the phones all those months ago and the chorus was the same;

_I anchored my heart to the lonely shore,_

_In hope that it will always return._

_But a lady with green eyes and a most peculiar soul,_

_Taught me to love, and with love, i now yearn._

_My heart was once anchored,_

_Now it floats in the sea towards her._

But a final two lines had been added, and although Emma's eyes were already clouded with prickling tears, the closing lyrics sent a handful streaming down her cheeks;

_Our hearts were once anchored disasters,_

_And now her heart belongs to me, and mine; to hers. _

Just before he finished, Killian looked out over the crowd, and Emma hid once more; tears blurring her gaze as she smiled in a moment of unashamed happiness. Still, he didn't catch her, and after another few seconds, he looked back at the other guys with a pleased smile that they all returned in joint victory; the cheers of the crowd providing their own closing soundtrack.

They jogged off stage with reluctance from both the band, and the crowd, but it was clear from their grins that this was all they'd ever hoped for. David pulled Killian into a one-armed hug as they left, and Victor and Robin were nudging and shouting loudly to each other in a state of Christmas morning spirit.

"Weren't they amazing?" Ruby yelled, interrupting Emma's haze and pulling her back into the hot, sweaty mess of swaying bodies and cheers. "I knew they were good, but wow!"

Emma noticed the door backstage, eyeing it intently. After a beat, Ruby followed her gaze. A smirk pulled at her scarlet lips as she matched Emma's eagerness with a quick wink. "Are you ready?" She shouted.

_Surprise time._

"Let's go."

It took a handful of minutes to physically force themselves to the door, at which point the backstage bouncers took extra careful looks at their passes – much to Emma's impatient sigh – and she tapped her foot against the floorboards as they checked I.D before allowing them to pass through.

_My boyfriend is Killian Jones, damn you,_ she wanted to snap, but realised how immature that sounded, even to her own ears, and remained quiet.

They wound past half a dozen rooms with various stage productions and crew member titles stapled onto the doors with clearly marked labels. They, in fact, found _Kodaline's_ dressing room before they found the band they were _really_ eager to see.

"I think we're lost…"

"How the hell can we be lost? It's a backstage set-up, not a labyrinth-"

"Ah ha!"

The upcoming door read;

Room no.7: _The Untitled._

Without even knocking, Emma pushed past Ruby and swung open the door; searching the room, looking, scanning off their names…

David, Victor…Robin…

"Seriously? Where the _hell_ is he?"

Even Regina was there.

But not Killian.

The rest of the band was standing in a loose circle. Her outburst and sudden arrival startled them for a moment, and then they all cheered and welcomed the pair in with open arms and charming hospitality.

"Emma! Come here!" Robin reached and tugged her into a hug. "It's nice to finally meet you too, sweetheart!"

"Sorry…" She drew back with a guilty smile but found only a warm smile in return on his handsome face. Robin was tall, not as tall as Killian, with a slight stubble and an old-fashioned charm that made her feel at ease.

_Good luck resisting this one, Regina_, she thought dryly.

Greeting all the others, she turned to Victor, but saw he was already preoccupied with Ruby; the two standing close and smiling in a sickening display of open flirtation. His arm was around her waist, with hers grasping his forearm.

_Nice work, Ruby. _

After all the introductions and small talk drifted into individual groups, Emma turned to David – who was also friendly and approachable, with short, light cropped hair and a smile warm enough to melt even the iciest of hearts – and tried to appear casual in her questioning. "I, uh…don't mean to be rude, but-"

"He went to get some air." David finished with a smile. He carefully took her refilled glass and gestured to the door. "You'll find him outside somewhere."

"Thanks, David."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Anything for a friend. Now go, find the idiot."

"Will do." Emma grinned, and quickly walked back out the door with a heart that was beginning to thump and beat away in revived anticipation.

She was careful to click the door behind her. Unsure of whether to simply walk around in vain hope, or to ask someone to track him down, Emma turned her back to the door, and-

"Swan?"

A heartbeat froze mid-beat.

Amusement was clear in his voice, and even without needing to see his face, she knew Killian was smiling with that one-sided, half-smile that she adored.

She turned around fully and there he was.

"It _is_ you! I _knew_ it was you."

At least ten or eleven feet away, Killian stood halfway down the corridor, staring down the space that separated them with a crushing desire burned into his eyes that mirrored her own.

"Surprise." She managed weakly.

Seeing him in person always _did_…something to her.

Every touch, or anticipated touch, awoke buried affection inside her. It spun inside Emma's mind with an enchanted fury. A peaceful storm. The way he held her gaze was enough to send her running, but it was the first step that settled her into motion.

A lingering pause broke, and then Killian was rushing towards her, and _oh_ – his arms were tight around her waist, hesitating as they brushed over her hips and pulled Emma closer. His eyes were next; burning blue and electric sparking between their gazes. Locked in a delicious, frozen heat.

She moved first, and then his head lowered and his lips were on hers; where they belonged.

At first gentle, they stayed pressed together.

Her arms came up around Killian's neck as it deepened; refusing to budge until he applied a pressure that sent shivers dancing along every nerve and bare skin. Everything was fire; desire and warmth and a perfect heat. Not too strong or dangerous, but comfortable, safe, with a sprinkle of adventure and careful kick.

Emma pulled back, but only their lips parted. Foreheads leaned in, her eyes closed, and she knew Killian was mirroring her too; foreheads pressed gently against the other's in a moment of peace and belonging. Breathless and delighted, they let a little time pass before they spoke.

She surprised herself by speaking first. "Hi…"

"Hi, love." He replied softly. There was laughter in his voice. Quiet, pleased laughter that was a musical remedy to Emma's anxieties.

"I knew you were there. Tonight, I can't explain it, but…I felt you were near."

Somewhere beneath happiness and love, Emma found it within her range to produce a teasing quip. "Huh. Maybe you're physic, Jones."

He feigned surprise. "Oh dear, is it too late to change careers?"

They shared a quiet laugh as Emma tugged at his collar between her fingertips. It was quiet moments like this that made everything worthwhile. "Sorry I lied," She began again. "But I…I wanted it to be a surprise. Forgive me?"

Killian tilted her chin up between his hand and his answering smile was enough to bury the doubt. "Don't apologise, love. This is the best surprise by far."

"Well, now we're even."

A moment's confusion pushed Killian's eyebrow up.

"New York, 'meet me at the docks', you showed up out of the blue." She clarified with a laugh. It seemed so long ago now. "Remember?"

His expression cleared, relaxing into a grin once more. "Ah, I see." He paused again, hand lifting up to brush a strand of hair away from Emma's eyes so he could look at her carefully. Taking his time was something she'd never enjoyed before meeting Killian, but now the intensity was welcome. A moment passed quietly, and then he spoke softly, "I've missed you, Emma."

"Oh?"

She thought of replying with another quip, or teasing remark, but then she looked up and felt it wash away; leaving behind only joy over their reunion. "Good." She murmured, nuzzling into Killian's neck as his hands snaked around her waist again.

His lips grazed her ear with a tingling sensation when he spoke. "Now, I do believe we have people expecting us." Low and suggestive, Killian was far from eager to leave. He looked back at her and heat flashed between their eyes.

Finally, Emma offered, "One more minute then?"

"We _could_ do that,"

Killian took a step closer so that his feet were angled in-between hers as though they'd be married years and years and no longer cared for even the slightest of distances.

"Or, I could come up with a few more…_enjoyable_ activities…?"

_Hell_.

"What'd you have it mind, Jones?"

Eyes met, grins widened, and Emma was wrecked already.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

x

An hour later, they were happily tangled in-between soft bed sheets in the hotel across the street. Stumbling and rushing into a quickly rented room for the night, Emma and Killian had been a beautiful mess of impatience and taking it slow, and desperation to be _close_.

Hands were entwined; limbs completely joined together as one mind, soul and body. Sure, nothing was perfect. The beauty was learning to love flaws as part of the complex package that came with the other.

Afterwards, they stayed together, quiet apart from the occasional embrace, or gentle kiss, sometimes shifting the covers higher or lower.

Emma traced a small circle around Killian's torso, enjoying the soft vulnerability of bare skin. "You were right." She said after a few minutes passed peacefully.

He shifted to look at her with a pleased look of smug afterglow. "I'm sure I was, but remind me again; what of?"

"This _was_ a far more enjoyable activity."

His smugness grew into a relaxed smile as he slowly reached for her and pulled Emma against him so that they now faced each other. "Told you to trust me, Swan." The only ounce of emotion in his voice was love. Complete, unconditional love. "Have I ever let you done?"

"No…never." She admitted truthfully after a moment. Still getting used to the softness of words that love allowed her to explore, Emma shifted closer and dared herself further. "And I love you for it, Killian."

He didn't speak again for a moment, simply watching her with careful eyes, as though fearful to break the moment apart with a wrong word.

What Killian was unaware of was Emma's own fear, and when two people fear the same fears, nothing can't be done to overcome them; together.

"Glad to hear it." He said quietly, and brushed his lips to her forehead before lowering down to meet her lips halfway; warm and waiting for him. "Because I do too. Love you. He cleared his throat, ridding of any thick emotion that may be mistaken for hesitation. "I love you, Emma." He spoke firmly this time. "There'll never be another for me."

They kissed again, and Emma tilted her head and slowly extended her neck to wait for the last moment to pull away. She sighed as a round of cheers outside broke the silence. "We should get back to the celebration, you know…"

"You're right. We _ought_ to."

"Or…?"

"_Or_." Killian repeated huskily, carefully lowering himself over her; hovering, waiting for her answer before he met her lips again.

She looked up at him, up at the handsome man - sometime irritating, and stubborn, but definitely worth every fight – waiting for her to say yes, and join him, and took a moment. This was still fairly new. Hell, it _was_ new. Yet at the same time it felt permanent and forever, and Emma was sure there was no one else for her either.

"No one else but you, Jones."

He smirked. "Is that your answer?"

"Yes." She said in gentle firmness. "That's my answer."

"Excellent."

Emma laughed as he rolled her over so that she was on top. Their legs became a tangled puzzle ready to be put together, and Killian looked up at her with eyes just as bright and hopeful as hers. This was it. Right here. A moment worth capturing and remembering. For all the moments to come, he was hers. She was his. They belonged to themselves, but also to each other.

And that would always remain.

* * *

**This **_**was**_** the epilogue; a definite ending, however, I'm certain that I'll be doing one-shots in a couple of weeks, when I get the time. Until then, no promises. **

**Hope you enjoyed it :)**

**One more question; what one-shots would you be interested in? General life, or significant moments/stepping stones?**


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